


Darkest Before the Dawn

by jtrevizo



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-04
Updated: 2001-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jtrevizo/pseuds/jtrevizo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully dives head-long into danger and intrigue as, with Skinner's help, she goes underground to try and find the Men In Black who kidnapped Mulder, and bring him back. Pre Season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkest Before the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> "Give a guy a gun and he's Superman.  
> Give him two and he's God."  
> From "Hard Boiled" by John Woo

J. Edgar Hoover Building  
FBI Headquarters  
Washington D.C.

 

Special Agent Dana Scully felt woozy watching the floor indicator   
lights flicker past as the elevator rose. She touched the healing   
scab at her temple and leaned back against the cool metal wall   
for support. You're pushing yourself too hard, too fast, she told   
herself.

"I don't have much choice," she said out loud in the empty   
elevator.

Mulder had disappeared.

Scully strode into Assistant Director Walter Skinner's outer office.   
She brushed roughly past Skinner's assistant and through his   
office door, sending it flying against the interior wall with a   
crashing thud. Skinner's head flew up from the paperwork before   
him to see the agent he had been expecting for some time.

"I want an answer sir," she stated with an authority that he'd   
suspected but never seen in her before as she stalked towards   
his desk and planted herself there, her hands braced on the edge   
of his desk. "Do you know where I can find him?"

Skinner looked her with a neutral expression on his face. He   
assumed that she thought he was clueless to what she wanted,   
but the truth was that he knew *exactly* what she was talking   
about. He had already taken steps to locate Fox Mulder and   
ascertain his "status", but he didn't think Scully quite knew what   
was truly involved in her request.

"Agent Scully," Skinner began, unsure of how he was going to   
say this. As it was, he wasn't sure he should even suggest it to   
her.

"I'm willing to pay whatever price is necessary to get him back,"   
she explained with finality.

At that, he had to question his decision and his motives. What he   
was thinking of doing was. . . dangerous to say the least, but he   
knew Sculy wouldn't give up looking for Mulder. It was either   
bring her in or risk her crossing paths with him later on, and that   
could become messy. Yet he didn't think that she knew what she   
was asking for with her request. What the price could *really* be.

"I believe I have a way to get Agent Mulder back," Skinner stated   
simply, watching her reactions closely.

Scully stepped back. Skinner could see her stand down   
offensively. Yet her fury seemed more than ready to fly again.   
She planned to gauge his words carefully lest he lie to her. She   
anxiously waited for him to tell her what that way was, and as the   
silence deepened, she started to open her mouth to ask the   
question in her head. He stopped her before the words had   
formed on her tongue.

"But I can't give you any details as of yet. Trust me, I will be in   
touch with you before the end of the day with what I know. And   
what you'll have to be willing to do to help Mulder."

Scully let his words weigh in her mind. There was part of her that   
didn't trust him, but she needed to believe that their boss, who'd   
come to their aid in the past, was privy to information that could   
lead her to Mulder.

Finally, she took the hope he was offering.

"Fine. I'll be in the basement office then. Waiting on your call,"   
she remarked, heading for the door. Before exiting, she turned   
back and stared at the man behind the heavy wood desk. "But I   
won't wait on you or your plan forever."

Then she was gone.

\- X -

As Scully made her way back to the basement office, her mind   
repeated the events that had led her to this decision. This   
pathway to certain termination from the Bureau and her sanity's   
slow erosion.

Mulder had disappeared.

Not like he usually did. No, not his routine 'Ditch Scully because   
it's dangerous and could get her fired' kind of disappearance. Not   
even an 'Alien Abduction', as he so often supported. No, this was   
more serious. Infinitely so. He'd been taken off the street. In   
broad daylight and in front of her.

They'd been leaving the main entrance to the J. Edgar Hoover   
building to get some lunch when the black sedan had driven up   
and the doors had flown open.

The first two men out the back door had grabbed Mulder before   
she could pull her service weapon. By that time, a third man had   
appeared from the driver's side, leveling his own gun and making   
it clear that he was willing to shoot both her and Mulder.

She would have challenged him, chanced it. There wasn't any   
way in hell that she was just going to stand by and let them take   
her partner without a fight. She was more than prepared to go   
down in a hailstorm of bullets to try and save Mulder from the   
unknown fate that lay within the doors to that car.

Except that the decision was taken out of her hands.

He had refused to let her try and save him.

As she opened the door to their office, she found her mind   
flashing back to the event.

//"Scully, *don't*!" Mulder cried insistently as two black clad men   
pulled him toward the back door of the sedan.

The surprise and anger in his eyes was replaced with fear in a   
heartbeat as she unwillingly lifted her arms, letting her gun swing   
lifelessly around her finger, coming to rest upside down to show   
the men that she wasn't a threat to them. That she was   
complying.

It wasn't until she broke her eye contact with Mulder that she   
realized that they weren't about to keep up their end of the   
unspoken bargain as the man with the gun took careful aim at   
her head and fired.

A split second later she felt the bullet strike her, and then through   
a fog of pain and blood she heard Mulder screaming her name   
as she twisted with the impact and crashed into the pavement.//

From there, everything had gone black.

The next thing she recalled was being surrounded by a group of   
Bureau agents and A.D. Skinner. Once she was alert enough,   
she tried to make it clear to them that Mulder was gone, that they   
needed to find the sedan and get him back, but she'd lost   
consciousness again. She woke up in the hospital, a minor   
wound at her temple taped up, and a throbbing headache from   
the gun shot and her meeting with the cement that could only   
have been a mild concussion.

That had been nearly five days ago.

Since then, there had been no word, no sign of Mulder or the   
men in the sedan. Every agent in the Bureau had been alerted to   
Mulder's kidnapping and an investigation had been opened. But   
it was as if he'd just vanished off the face of the planet.

Skinner had insisted each time she had called from her   
apartment while on her forced medical leave that everything that   
could be done within the legal system was being done.

Except for Dana Scully, that just wasn't enough. She owed   
Mulder more than this. Just waiting around for some word of his   
whereabouts. Or for his body to show up tossed onto the front   
steps of the Hoover building.

He had gone with them to protect her, and the understanding that   
she now had chilled her blood in her veins. She knew that she   
had to take matters into her own hands. If she had to, she'd   
make a deal with the devil himself to get him back. Because she   
knew he would do the same for her.

So now, as she unlocked the door to *their* office, she prepared   
herself to wait for Skinner's call. To continue to feel her hope slip   
further and further away from her. In its place desperation was   
taking hold. And so was the need for retribution.

\- X -

In his office, Walter Skinner sat and questioned his position.   
There was nothing in the Assistant Director job description that   
authorized, let alone condoned what he was thinking of. The fact   
that he wanted to take one of his agents into. . .

He shook his head and reached to pinch the bridge of his nose   
where his glasses rested. God, his head hurt him. There were   
days that he was reminded that he wasn't a young, gung-ho   
Marine anymore, or even a middle-aged agent. He missed them.   
Well, maybe not all of them.

His finger snaked over to the phone and jabbed the button to the   
intercom.

"Kimberly, could you verify that the Federal Express package I   
sent to New Jersey arrived?"

There was rustling of paper and then his assistant's voice came   
over the line.

"Yes sir. It arrived three days ago."

He frowned. Three days should have been enough to either hear   
back or be shot. Yet neither had happened. . .

"Have we received any packages or letters today?"

There was more rustling through heavier sounding papers and   
hard sounds.

"Well, there's a letter envelope here that arrived this morning.   
But it came from Yonkers, rather than Jersey City," she informed   
him.

Of course, he thought. They wouldn't send it from the address he   
had. Hell, he wasn't even sure that the address was the right one   
anymore. But the fact that there was some kind of reply seemed   
to bolster his position. Now he just had to see if they were willing   
to talk.

"Could you bring it in here please?"

A few moments later the door opened, and Kimberly walked in,   
placed the envelope on his desk and exited again.

Once the door was shut, he reached for the envelope. In a   
minute he had the outer container open, and inside he found a   
sealed letter size envelope, with his name printed on it.

Ripping open the envelope, he quickly withdrew the one page   
piece of stationary. No blood, he thought as he unfolded the ivory   
sheet. He scanned it for a moment. Then read it. And read it   
again.

So, Anthony was willing to help him. For the price that only   
Skinner could pay him. He was surprised that his resources   
hadn't found his father for him before now. But then, that was the   
point of putting Carmine where he was. Nice and comfy and   
thousands of miles from his 'Family'.

"Kimberly. Would you please call American Airlines and get two   
one-way tickets to Newark International Airport from National   
leaving around 8pm tonight in my name and Agent Scully's. And I   
want them expensed to my American Express card, not my   
corporate account. Let me know what the exact time of the flight   
is when you have the confirmation and have them messenger the   
tickets to my apartment before 5pm."

"Yes sir."

With that, Skinner pressed down on the plunger, released it   
quickly and dialed the extension for the basement office phone at   
Mulder's desk. He knew that she'd be sitting there. It rang once   
before it was picked up and he heard her standard greeting.

"Agent Scully. I have the information I've been waiting on. It will   
require us doing some traveling. If you're still willing to do this,   
I'll be at your apartment at 6pm tonight."

There was silence for a moment, then her calm voice replied   
over the line.

"Alright sir. I'll expect you then."

"And one more thing, Scully."

"Yes sir?"

"Don't dress like a Fed."

With that, Skinner hung up the receiver and sat back to wait for   
his past and his future to converge.

\- X -

Unknown location   
Somewhere in the U.S.

 

Through the darkness, the sound of pounding still rang through   
the building.

Mulder had been pounding on the door of the closet-like cell   
since he'd woken up. He'd checked his watch and come to learn   
that he'd lost three days somewhere before he'd woken up here.   
And since he'd begun pounding, he figured another six hours had   
passed, with no one coming to investigate the noise he was   
making.

He could hear machinery and horns occasionally, while the clack   
of train tracks was easily heard through the walls that parted him   
from the outside world. But not much else. He had no idea of   
where the hell it was he was at, if anyone was coming to get him,   
or if they had just dumped him here to rot.

The only things he did know was that he was in deep shit, and   
that he still needed to know what had happened to Scully.

With that thought, he gave one more half-hearted slam to the   
door with his fist, producing a dull thud that reverberated through   
his hand and into his soul. He stepped back to fall down on his   
ass onto the dirty mattress they'd crammed into the limited   
space. It was at best a six by six room with poor lighting and   
ventilation. He wasn't looking forward to using the toilet mounted   
on the wall, considering those facts. As he sat on the lumpy,   
smelly mattress, he found himself replaying the incident that had   
led him here, the scene burning a hole into his mind and tearing   
at his chest.

He had thought he knew what he was doing. That he was saving   
Scully by sacrificing his chance to escape. Yet he had watched   
in horror as the third goon in the black suit had pulled the trigger   
on his gun, firing at Scully.

She hadn't had a chance, what with her own gun dangling   
loosely off her finger. The fact that he'd insisted she drop her   
weapon ate at him. He'd thought that they'd leave her be, take   
him and go. Instead they'd shot her anyway, and he was to   
blame for it all.

He'd screamed her name as she twisted with the impact and   
crashed to the ground. The sound of the gunshot and his   
screaming voice still haunted him, filling his thoughts. As it was,   
the scene continued to play out in slow motion in his head: her   
hair flying and her gun dropping from her hand as she went to   
the pavement, blood starting to spill on the concrete; his body   
struggling against the strong arms pulling him into the car as he   
called out to his partner.

Inside the car, he'd heard the door slam shut and he'd started to   
fight back in earnest, his adrenaline racing. He was determined   
that he was going to escape and get back to Scully's side. Finally   
they'd smashed his head into the metal of the door frame, dazing   
him. After that, he'd felt the shove of a hypodermic needle in his   
arm and the world had gone dark.

He'd woken up, days later in this locked room. There was no way   
to know where he was, let alone who had him and if there was a   
way out.

Suddenly the door flew open and two armed men stood there,   
weapons pointed at him. A third tossed inside the cell door a   
plastic cooler. Warily he started to get up, and they abruptly   
slammed the door shut before he could even get a word out or   
make a foolish rush for them.

The armed guards who had just delivered his food to him were   
the first people he'd seen since he'd been shoved in the car. As   
he made his way to the door, he wondered when he'd be getting   
some answers. Bending down, he picked up the cooler and   
opened it, revealing food - a half dozen bottles of water, some   
sandwiches, granola bars, and dried fruit. The fact that they were   
feeding him at least that meant they planned on keeping him   
alive. For the moment.

Now it was just a matter of time. To wait and find out just why he   
was there, and what was going to happen. To wait and hopefully   
find out what had happened to Scully. To wait and see if he was   
even going to get out of wherever he was alive.

And he didn't like waiting.

\- X -

Scully's apartment building  
3170 W. 53 Rd.  
Annapolis, VA

 

As he walked down the brightly lit hallway of Scully's suburban   
apartment building, Walter Skinner found himself questioning his   
life and how he'd gotten where he was now, ready to come full   
circle.

Damn, thought Skinner, I thought that this was buried in the past,   
never to resurface. Somehow though, he had always known that   
he'd have to deal with his early deeds.

The old Marine that walked down the hallway towards Scully's   
apartment looked little like and assistant director of the FBI. He   
was dressed for action in his old "narc" clothes: black turtleneck   
shirt, blue jeans that he now realized were tighter than he'd   
thought they were, and a tiger-striped camouflage fatigue shirt   
from his days in the war.

It seemed appropriate somehow that he was wearing this. It was   
how he'd started this path, wasn't it? If he hadn't been in the   
service, gone to 'Nam, he never would have considered the   
Bureau. With the FBI, he'd found himself mixed up in something   
that was more involved than even the war had been.

Skinner knocked at Scully's door at 6pm as agreed. He felt a bit   
silly, decked out like a cat burglar at the end of the work day. But   
the fact was that he knew that once they got to their destination,   
he *needed* to be invisible, blend in. The stakes were just too   
high to just walk into the lion's den dressed as FBI agents, suits   
and ties to make sure everyone knew they didn't belong.

Finally she arrived, opening the door and peering out at him. As   
she looked him over, he felt uncomfortable.

"Okay, Huggy-Bear, let's roll," he joked, trying to ease the   
tension that seems all too palatable as she scrutinized him from   
the door to the apartment.

Finally she opened it fully, letting him inside. Before him, Agent   
Scully stood dressed more for a picnic rather than for covert ops.

"Is something wrong?" Scully asked.

"I'd hoped you would have dressed a little more. . . " Skinner   
hunted for the words. "A little more street."

"'Street'?"

Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that he hadn't   
mentioned where exactly they were going. Skinner couldn't help   
but have a moment of doubt about his decision. Was he right in   
bringing her along? Shaking his head slightly, he reminded   
himself that he didn't really have a choice. He could either take   
her with him, or she'd find some other, possibly more dangerous   
way to find Mulder. Although he was hard pressed to come up   
with one at the moment.

"Scully, you're going to need something a little less. . .   
conspicuous. Maybe some of your off-duty clothes?"

"These are my off-duty clothes."

Skinner sighed, and said, "Don't you have anything darker?   
Maybe in leather?"

Her eyebrow raised at that, giving him a feeling of uneasiness,   
until she looked down and realized she did look like a yuppie.

"Sorry. Let me go change and repack."

Leaving the room, she heard Skinner shut the front door as she   
made her way to the bedroom.

Standing in front of her closet and looking in, Dana Scully viewed   
a wall of matched suits and blouses, ready for a day at the FBI.   
As she looked at them, she thought about Skinner in her living   
room, decked out for a undercover assignment, and she realized   
that she really didn't own any ass-kicking clothes.

She was certain that Mulder's closet was filled with them. From   
the Armani suits that could make him look like a gangster to the   
dark turtlenecks and jeans to go with that black leather jacket of   
his that made him look tough and no-nonsense.

And then there was Skinner again, dressed for combat. . .

The fact that he was there, helping her and Mulder had taken her   
by surprise. Why he was doing this she still didn't have a clue.   
Her reasons were obvious. Her partner was out there, and she   
knew that if it was her, he wouldn't give up. How could she look   
herself in the mirror every morning if she didn't do everything she   
could to get him back?

Sorting through what she owned, she pulled out several sets of   
items that she figured would be ok. Her "off duty" clothes, as   
Skinner had so eloquently put it, as well as one black suit that   
she thought might come in handy if she had to look "official" for   
anything. She dumped out her bag and repacked, stuffing in the   
new clothes and replacing her necessary gear. Then she   
redressed in the less conspicuous clothes from her closet.

Stopping at the closed door, she reached up and hauled down   
her black trenchcoat from the hook there. It was a necessity. The   
fact that it was black and could conceal her gun was a big plus.   
And, if she needed to, she could discard it with a minimum of   
fuss. Throwing it over her shoulder, she opened the door into the   
living room.

Hauling the plain brown shoulder tote out with her, she stood   
there so Skinner could look her over and hopefully give his   
approval of the blue jeans that were almost the same color as his   
and a white turtleneck. Scully had thrown over the shirt her   
brother Bill's worn brown leather bomber jacket that he'd wanted   
to toss out. It nearly matched her hiking boots, ones that she'd   
worn on a trip too many to the forest with Mulder.

She continued to stand there, waiting for his approval like a   
schoolgirl. Finally he nodded his acceptance. He noted the   
trenchcoat and her bag and hoped the rest of her clothes were   
equally as inconspicuous and multi-purpose.

"I hope you don't mind that I drive," he stated without preamble   
as he turned and headed for her door, opening it and stepping   
outside as she quickly followed.

With a slight concern, Scully closed and then dead bolted the   
door, realizing that she wasn't going to be back for a while, and   
wondering just where she was going to end up. They made their   
way downstairs and she followed him to his car. Getting in, she   
saw his military-style duffle in the back seat.

"We'll be traveling off and on for a while. We've got a couple of   
places to go before we get to our final destination," he said as he   
turned over the car engine and started for the Interstate heading   
to National airport. "Oh, and here's your ticket, in case we get   
split up."

Scully took the airline ticket Skinner handed to her and looked at   
it.

National to Newark.

And there wasn't a return ticket to be found.

\- X -

Unknown location  
New York City, NY

 

The reports from his men sprawled across the business-like   
desk. They all said the same thing, acknowledging the fact that   
his orders had been carried out and that the 'subject' was stored   
away until further notice.

The heavy set Italian man rubbed his thick hands together as he   
considered just what he was putting into motion, and how it   
would effect everything.

It was a simple plan really. There had been a point in time when   
everyone had been out for their own interests, playing the game   
like it was personal. Not now. Not since he'd subverted the   
private agenda of the Smoking Man and caused the shake-up   
within the Organization. He was in the position of power now,   
and no one was prepared to cross him.

And that left him open to play his own game.

Mulder was part of it. For his many uses to the 'plan', he had   
gotten tired of the agent's consistent meddling in the affairs of   
the council. It had been time to make a decision in his future,   
and there was no one willing or able to counter his orders now.

The daylight kidnapping had been bold, but he wanted Mulder's   
associates to realize that the time of kid gloves was over.

For everyone to realize that.

\- X -

Flight 1079   
American Airlines  
En route to Newark Intl.

 

The plane ride to New Jersey seemed to take forever. Of course,   
the fact that Scully had no idea what Skinner's plan was even at   
this late date in the game gnawed at her frayed nerves.

And there was the well-established fact that she really disliked   
airline travel, packed like sardines in coach on a small plane that   
shouldn't even be able to defy the laws of gravity and lift off the   
tarmac. She had done it hundreds of times on cases, but she still   
wasn't totally comfortable with flying.

Without conscious thought, her hand wound up pushing down   
the collar of her turtleneck, then her fingers floated over to hold,   
then twist her gold cross between her fingers. Somehow it made   
her feel better. Even without faith in the object grasped between   
the pads of her fingers, she found some solace in the memory of   
every time Mulder had held or touched that small piece of metal   
over the years. He had faith in *her*. And she was going to live   
up to that faith.

She let go of a breath she didn't know she had been holding, the   
result was soft sigh that caught Skinner's attention. He looked up   
from the airline magazine that he'd been reading, although Scully   
had caught him rereading the same page for the last 10 minutes,   
and appraised her demeanor through his wire-rimmed glasses.

She gave him a half nod to assure him she was ok. Of course,   
she knew that he knew better. But it was a small gesture to keep   
the situation from snowballing into something she didn't want to   
even consider.

Yet she knew instinctively that whatever lay ahead of them, she   
was already out of her depth. But on the other hand, she knew   
that she would do whatever it took to get Mulder back. His   
survival depended on her ability to get him out of wherever they   
had him. There was too much at stake for her to give more than   
everything she had.

So much so that she didn't even want to ponder the real reasons   
she was willing to go to such lengths for her partner. The man   
who was more than just that. . .

\- X -

The Fig Leaf  
10 43rd. St.  
Newark, NJ

 

When the yellow cab had stopped in front of the strip club, Scully   
and Skinner had both looked out the car windows with surprise   
and some shock. Bolted to the brick wall of the exterior of the   
building, neon figures of a naked woman with an apple and a   
snake beneath the name of the place - The Fig Leaf.

Skinner then spent five minutes arguing with the cab driver over   
the address, but it seemed that there was no mistake. Whomever   
Skinner had dragged her to see was inside.

Unless, of course, this was all just one big joke on her. But one   
look at Skinner's serious face maintained that he wasn't   
laughing.

Finally, Skinner paid the man and climbed out of the cab, Scully   
following. The cab driver pulled their bags from the trunk and   
dropped them on the cement curb before he got in again and   
drove off.

After staring at the building for another long minute, Skinner   
reached down and slung his duffle over his shoulder, then picked   
up Scully's bag and headed for the door. The second he'd   
opened the door a crack, the night air was filled with the brutal   
rhythmic pounding of the music inside.

Squaring his shoulders, he pressed through, leaving Scully to   
follow in his wake.

Inside, the club reeked of sweat, liquor and smoke. There was   
enough light to see the barely dressed women gyrating on the   
stage across from the bar. There were tables surrounding the   
stage, half filled with men of varying degrees of age. The women,   
of course, couldn't be more than 25, and Scully guessed a few   
might be under the legal drinking age as well.

Black panels covered the walls, making what light there was   
stark and almost harsh. The pounding music was there simply to   
provide the women something to concentrate on as they   
performed for the lewd crowd.

Skinner glanced at the stage show for only a moment before his   
eyes went directly to the bar. As he approached, he looked over   
the men sitting at the bar. They were a collection of local   
riff-raff and some made guys. Nothing that he couldn't handle.   
Stopping at a large empty space between patrons, Skinner leaned   
in and signaled the bartender.

"Beer."

Halfway down the bar, the heavy-set man in a grimy white dress   
shirt with the sleeved rolled up turned and noted Skinner's hand   
and verbal order. The large man made his way to Skinner, his   
receding black hair a match for Skinner's, but his eyes were cold.   
He picked up a glass and proceeded to shove it under the spigot,   
filling it with whatever the house beer was.

"Three bucks," said the bartender, glancing from Skinner to   
Scully and back again. Skinner pulled three ones from his   
pocket, along with a twenty and shoved them across the bar.

"I'm looking for Anthony DiMerra. Is he here?" Skinner asked,   
dropping the bags on the floor as he reached for the glass in   
front of him.

"Maybe. But I can tell you, he ain't interested in sharin' any   
profits for the girls here. Sure, your whore is pretty and probably   
fucks great, but we don't need any girls with an owner that ain't   
us," the bartender stated sharply, pocketing the twenty and   
starting to turn away from Skinner to go shove the three bucks   
into the cash register.

Behind him, Scully's temper was ablaze, shocked at the man's   
insinuation that Skinner was trying to pimp her to the club. She   
couldn't believe. . .

Suddenly Skinner's hand flashed over the bar and gripped the   
bartender's arm. The man turned to face him, and at the same   
moment, Skinner heard the sound of safety snaps being popped   
and weapons being drawn.

Shit, he thought. He had wanted to avoid this, but he wasn't   
letting this prick take his money without giving him the   
information he wanted. The fact that he'd insulted Scully hadn't   
really entered into his decision.

Of course he was sure that one of the weapons he'd heard come   
flying free was his agent's. Unless things cooled down fast, he   
might have to protect this guy from Scully's wrath. But the big   
problem seemed to be the five or so guns surrounding him and   
pointed at the back of his head.

Easing up on his grip, Skinner allowed the bartender to slip from   
his grasp. One of the men from near the end of the bar got up   
from his stool and moved towards Scully and Skinner's position.   
Skinner slowly turned and got a good look at the man with the   
Beretta 9mm auto pointed in his and Scully's direction.

"Vincent Penella. I figured you'd be dead by now," Skinner said,   
his hand slowly moving to his back, as Scully moved forward   
with her Sig, covering for her boss.

"You *should* be Walt," spat Vincent, his gun now directly trained   
on Scully, as she was the looming threat, but keeping his eyes   
on Skinner. "After what you did to our boss, you should have   
ended up fish food. Some of the guys thought you had. What'd   
you do, skip the country or did you turn? How'd you stay hidden   
all this time, huh?"

Gripping the butt of his gun, Skinner started to move away from   
the bar, forcing Vincent to make a choice on who to follow, him   
or Scully. At the same time, Scully started to move the opposite   
way, almost directly across from Skinner's position.

"I had nothing to do with Carmine's situation, Vinnie. But I am   
here to help Anthony. I've got information on what really   
happened to Carmine, and I know he'll want to hear it. He asked   
me here."

"You fucking liar! You're the Judas who got Anthony's old man,   
our *chief* whacked!"

Skinner saw Vinnie's hand start to swing his way, the look in the   
man's eyes telling him he had two second before his insides   
were about to become ventilated. With reflexes born on the rice   
paddies half a world away and honed during his time in the   
Bureau, he pulled his Smith & Wesson 9mm auto and sent a   
round through Vinnie's shoulder, making the man drop his gun.

Scully fired a second round into the wall, and spun to aim at the   
advancing mobsters, suggesting they keep their distance. On the   
stage, the girls screamed and ran for cover, as some of the   
patrons ran for the door.

"You fuck! You shot me!" screamed Vinnie, as he clutched his   
injured shoulder.

From the back area, a young wiseguy appeared and moved   
through the other armed men to Vinnie's side. He whispered   
something in the man's ear, and Vinnie's eyebrows shot up, as if   
in surprise.

"Mr. Skinner," the young man said, and Skinner nodded in his   
direction, "I'm Benny Alberti. Mr. DiMerra is expecting you. If   
you'll follow me."

Slowly the gangsters lowered their weapons, and Skinner and   
Scully did the same. Reaching down, Skinner grabbed their bags   
and followed Benny as he moved to the back area. Scully   
glanced over her shoulder as the men helped Vinnie out the   
door, hopefully taking him to get his shoulder taken care of, and   
then continued after Skinner and their 'guide'.

Benny ushered Skinner and Scully past the velvet curtain leading   
to the back rooms of the club. Here, obviously was the rest of the   
operation - storerooms most likely downstairs, dressing or   
undressing rooms for the dancers, private rooms for 'special'   
performances' and what looked to be the manager's office.

They took a sharp right and were soon before a dark wood door.   
Benny knocked and waited for as response within.

"Come," announced a disembodied voice on the other side.

At that, Benny turned the handle and nearly pushed Skinner in,   
leaving Scully to follow. She was starting to get annoyed by this   
whole "macho" attitude and everyone treating her like an after-  
thought. But she knew she didn't have much choice in the matter.   
This was Skinner's deal, and she couldn't afford to get angry and   
piss them off, especially if they really could help them, help *her*   
find Mulder.

Behind the tacky glass and chrome desk at the center of the dark   
room sat a young man, about 25, dressed in a stylish suit that   
was too big for him. Obviously, this was the person that Skinner   
had come here to see.

Anthony DiMerra. Mob boss and apparently an acquaintance of   
her boss.

"You realize the only reason you're here Wally, is that I'm curious   
what you think you have that I want," Anthony started off, wasting   
no time in establishing his dominant position and speaking to   
Skinner in such a demeaning way. Yet Skinner seemed to shrug   
it off instantly. He knew Anthony was capo among the North   
Jersey Families, but after the Columbians took their business in   
the eighties and RICO took their freedom in the nineties, that   
didn't mean much. Skinner knew the Family when they made   
presidents die an a whim, and Anthony DiMerra was a long way   
from that.

"You know what I have. Information on where your father is. I   
have to admit, I would have thought you would have tried a bit   
harder to find him in the last 10 years, but that's your business.   
What I'm willing to do is take you and a few of your men to where   
he is, and help you get him out. After that, I just need his help   
with a problem of my own. Then, we're done," Skinner explained   
with a no-nonsense tone of voice.

The young gangster sat there and looked thoughtfully at Skinner,   
his brown eyes flicking from Skinner to Scully and back again.

"You realize that I'd always assumed that someone had whacked   
Carmine, don't you?" Anthony explains, "When he went missing   
before I was born, the Captains at the time thought *you* were   
even responsible."

As he spoke, Anthony let his fingers slide over the nickel-plated   
revolver that sat atop a stack of twenty-dollar bills on his desk.   
Scully snuck her hand toward the Sig at her waist. Skinner was   
stone-cold still.

Then Anthony smiled. It was not comforting in the least. "But I   
remember the day that I received that audiotape that said that a   
man named 'Skinner' would one day contact me and help me   
complete my vendetta, and to help this man anyway I could. I   
understood then that there was more to my father's   
disappearance than I'd been told. Now, here you are, asking for   
my help, offering my father back in return. Why should I trust   
you? You and the woman with you are obviously Feds, or that   
letter I sent you wouldn't have gone to Fibi headquarters, now   
would it? How do I know you're not setting us up?"

"Because your father trusted me. Even if he probably shouldn't,"   
Skinner replied, obviously frustrated at the situation. "We have as   
much at stake as you do. We need Carmine alive to help us. So,   
the question is, do you want him back?"

There was a long pause as the dark, curly haired man seemed to   
mull over the situation. Finally he answered, "Yeah."

"Alright then. Call a few of your guys and tell them to get their   
gear ready for a road trip. We're leaving tonight to find your long-  
lost father in a lovely little resort north of San Francisco. . .   
in a secret jail block underneath San Quentin Prison," Skinner   
announced.

\- X -

Newark Intl. Airport (EWR)  
Newark, NJ

 

Skinner stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror of the   
Newark airport restroom. The face he saw looking back was a   
stranger. The lines in his forehead seemed deeper, and his eyes   
seemed cold and dull. It was as if the years since everything had   
happened had disappeared. He looked like a gangster again,   
and God knew he was starting to act like one.

After being reassigned at the Bureau, he'd done everything in his   
power to put behind him the sins of the past. Now he had   
voluntarily brought them forth and brought someone else along   
for the experience.

Of course, Dana Scully was an FBI agent. Trained to handle any   
situation. But he could still remember that nothing he'd been   
taught in the Academy had prepared him for the wholesale   
violence and numbness to that violence that he'd seen in his time   
with the DiMerra family. Still, he couldn't even begin to imagine   
what Scully had already seen, had gone through while she'd   
been with the X-Files.

Yet, he reminded himself, it had been her choice to walk with him   
into the underbelly. She wasn't doing it because she had a past   
she had to settle with these men. She was doing it because she   
had to, if she wanted to get Mulder back.

Mulder. It always seemed to come back to him where Scully was   
concerned. He wouldn't be surprised if she would wrestle naked   
in lime green Jell-o in the bullpen of the Hoover building if it   
would mean that he'd be returned. For a moment, he found   
himself distracted by the image, and then angrily berated himself.   
She was his subordinate. He shouldn't think like that about her.   
Besides, he had a deep suspicion that the only man she was   
interested in had dark hair with hazel eyes and shitty taste in   
neckties.

Of course, the devotion and attraction, if he didn't miss his   
guess, wasn't one sided. Mulder would do anything for Scully. He   
remembered vividly how he'd been after her abduction, during   
the coma, and later during her cancer. Scully was everything to   
him. One day, he was sure that Mulder would have to wake up to   
the fact that *she* was the truth he'd been looking for all this   
time.

Just like Skinner had known that one day he'd have to face his   
past. And it seemed that day had finally come.

He finished up and proceeded back out into the airport terminal   
where Scully, Anthony and three of his men were waiting for him.   
His FBI badge and some forged papers would get them and the   
indiscreet bulges under their shoulders onto the red-eye flight   
that left in twenty minutes. And then he'd have to face the man   
who'd spent the last 25 years in hell, and live up to his part in   
that.

\- X -

San Francisco International Airport (SFO)  
South San Francisco, CA

 

Once the flight had landed, they made their way through the   
massive terminal and outside to the rows of taxis, shuttles and   
cars that stopped along the turn-around to the airport. Skinner   
gave Anthony a slip of paper, told them to meet him there at 6pm   
that night and then steered Scully into a waiting cab.

The flight had been long, and Scully hadn't been able to help but   
look between her boss and the Mafia thugs that he somehow   
seemed to have an affiliation with throughout the trip. What she   
had gotten into, she wasn't quite sure, but Mulder was still out   
there and she had to find him. If these 'wiseguys' could help her,   
she'd play along.

For the time being at least.

The cabbie had thrown their bags into the trunk and set off for   
the address Skinner gave him. When the man had heard   
'Oakland', she could almost hear the cash register go off in his   
head. Clearly they were going to be driving for a while.

As the car chugged through what was probably commute traffic,   
she looked out and wondered again just what Carmine DiMerra   
had to do with Mulder's abduction. Surely the Consortium was   
involved, but how that related to these mobsters, she had yet to   
get Skinner to explain to her.

She'd been taking a lot of things on faith with her boss on this   
excursion. How much longer she'd continue to give him that   
slack depended on where they ended up today.

An hour later, they were in one of the more run-down neighborhoods   
that Scully had ever visited. That Skinner was taking them here   
did not bode well for that thinning thread of trust. This whole   
thing seemed like it was taking forever, and for all she knew,   
Mulder didn't *have* forever for Skinner to go sight-seeing.

Finally the cab stopped before an old, dilapidated Victorian and   
announced a wrenching dollar amount for the ride. Without   
blinking, Skinner scraped it up, along with a tip and got out. The   
cab driver hurried out and got their bags, dropping them to the   
pavement before driving off and leaving them there.

Once he had his bag in hand, Skinner was climbing the steps.   
He dropped his bag to the porch floor and rung the doorbell. After   
what seemed too long, the door swung open, and a dark skinned   
black man around Skinner's age opened it.

"Walt!"

"Reggie!"

The two greeted each other with a handshake and hearty hug, an   
obvious camaraderie like that of men who spent months   
together, simply staying alive. Based on the man's age, she   
guessed they'd been in the war together, or possibly even early   
academy at Quantico. It was all supposition, as Skinner had yet   
to introduce them.

"I'm glad you could help me out. I know it's a lot to ask of you,"   
Skinner began, as he released his grip on his friend as he pulled   
back. "Like I said when I called, it could be dangerous."

Reggie laughed loudly, a guttural sound that seemed to resonate   
in his chest. With a gesture, he waved of Skinner's concerns.

"Walt, how many times did you haul my ass out of trouble in   
'Nam? Five, six maybe? I think it's the least I can do to help you   
with this little problem of yours. So just haul your sorry ass in   
here, and give me the rest of the story."

At that, Skinner picked up his bag and started in. After a   
moment, he realized that Scully was still outside. Turning, he   
looked out and found her standing at the bottom of the stairs,   
arms crossed against her chest. If she hadn't been wearing the   
dark sunglasses against the morning sun, blocking his view of   
her eyes, he would have been able to confirm his initial   
assessment that she was pissed.

"Be right back Reg," Skinner said, and headed outside down to   
his agent.

"Scully," he began. . .

"What the hell are we doing here Skinner?" she asked harshly,   
her patience gone and her temper flaring. "You have yet to   
explain *one* thing to me of why we're here, what those Mafia   
goons have to with this, and how all of this relates to me finding   
Mulder!"

For a second, he expected her to haul off and hit him. The truth   
was he couldn't blame her if she did. He'd been keeping most of   
the plans and knowledge he had to himself, almost as if to keep   
her innocent a while longer as to exactly what they were going to   
do. Now, he knew he not only didn't have the right to, but he   
couldn't keep her out of it any longer.

"I'm sorry Scully. It's just. . ." he said, faltering under her stare.   
"Look, let's go inside, get some rest, and then we'll talk."

"No. You tell me *now* what's going on, or I'm leaving. For all I   
know, Mulder could be dead by now while you play 'The   
Godfather' with these mobsters," Scully insisted, her tone   
unyielding.

Sighing, Skinner knew that she meant every word she said. The   
time for answers had come.

"Alright. Grab your bag and come inside. I'll explain there."

With that, he turned and walked up the stairs, glancing once over   
his shoulder to see her shoulder her gear and start to follow him   
up. He held the door for her, and then shut it behind her as she   
dropped her stuff by his, took off her sunglasses and looked   
around the place. They stood in the living room, furnished by a   
sofa, loveseat, TV and recliner. At the back she could see a   
kitchen, and assumed that the doors to the right between them   
went to the bedroom and bathroom in the place.

Standing at the kitchen entryway, Skinner's friend Reggie   
watched her and her boss as they came in and she looked   
around. She wondered what he was thinking of, as his gaze went   
back and forth between her and Skinner.

"Reggie, I'd like you to meet one of my agents from the Bureau,   
Dana Scully. Her partner, Agent Fox Mulder was kidnapped last   
week. He's the reason we're here," Skinner informed his friend,   
and Reggie moved to where she stood and shook her hand.   
"Reggie's one of my oldest friends. We served a tour in 'Nam   
together."

"Nice to meet you Agent Scully. I'm sorry it's under these   
circumstances."

"Thank you."

Skinner nodded in Reggie's direction, and the man disappeared,   
leaving Scully and Skinner alone in the living room. He found the   
recliner and sat down, waiting until she was seated to start. She   
sat on the loveseat, her expression anxious.

"When I first started working for the Bureau, I was assigned to an   
undercover mob investigation. That's how I met Anthony's father,   
Carmine. Anyway, when the assignment came to a close,   
Carmine was supposed to go to jail, but someone higher up   
wanted more. They stuck him in a secret jail block until he would   
offer up the information they wanted. It wasn't until later at that   
I came to learn that he was being held there, not for those   
reasons, but because he knew too much about someone within   
the Consortium. And I believe that this man is the person   
responsible for Mulder's abduction. I believe you know him by   
the name The First Elder," Skinner explained at length, watching   
Scully's face go from understanding to shock. "Carmine knows   
things that could expose him, and if we can exploit that   
knowledge, we can get Mulder back."

For what probably was five minutes, Scully sat in stunned   
silence. She'd expected that someone affiliated with the   
Consortium had orchestrated Mulder's kidnapping. First on her   
list had been Cancerman, but that hadn't fit. She didn't know who   
else within the conspiracy would want to take Mulder, so her   
attempts to find a source to tell her something had failed. Now   
here was Skinner, saying he believed he knew who was   
responsible for Mulder's kidnapping, and that this errand was   
about getting someone who they could use against him, for   
leverage in getting Mulder back.

"Alright, for the moment, let's just say that we do find this man   
who knows these secrets about The First Elder. How would we   
let Them know we want to cut a deal?"

Ah, Skinner thought to himself. Cynical, rational Scully was   
making her appearance. She hadn't stopped to ask questions   
about his past or the deal with the gangsters. Her focus was still   
fully rooted in how they were getting Mulder back, and how   
Carmine fit into that.

"As soon as we spring Carmine, I have a feeling that we'll be   
being contacted. But if not, I think we may have some allies who   
are trying to track down Mulder's whereabouts."

"Who," Scully asked, suspiciously.

"I'd rather not say," Skinner began, and as he saw her gearing up   
to demand the person's name, he hurried to explain himself. "I   
have my reasons Scully, and I'll have you remember that I got   
you the location of Mulder when he'd run off to Alaska, didn't I?"

At that she had to concede. She remembered that night when the   
man Mulder called X showed up at his apartment, thinking her   
partner had contacted him, and refused to tell Scully where   
Mulder had gone. Skinner had shown up minutes later, bloody   
and disheveled and gave her the information. If he said he could   
get the information, then she had little choice than to trust him.

"Yes, you did. So, Anthony is here for his father. Once he has   
him, what then?"

"Truthfully, I don't know. I expect that Carmine's vendetta with   
The First Elder will keep him around until we get Mulder back.   
But I can't guarantee it. Anyway, it's almost noon. We should get   
some rest before Anthony and his men get here at 6," he   
remarked, just as Reggie seemed to appear out of no where.   
"Reg, do you have someplace for Scully to sleep for a few   
hours? I can just sleep on the couch. . ."

"I'm not using my room, so after we talk, you can get some rest in   
there. As for agent Scully, I have a spare bedroom that she can   
use. Let me show you," he informed them. Scully reached down,   
picking up her bag and then stood to follow Reggie.

"Here's the spare, and there's a bathroom of its own attached. I'll   
make sure that you and Walt are up by 5, and get you something   
to eat before we storm the castle and all," Reggie said with   
another of his deadly, deep laughs.

Scully entered the sparsely furnished spare bedroom, dropped   
her bag and other items and closed the door behind her. Sitting   
on the bed, she pulled off her hiking boots and then curled up on   
the mattress.

She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

\- X -

Residence of Reggie Earle  
1003 63rd St.  
Oakland, CA

 

With a powerful knock on the front door at 6pm sharp, Anthony   
DiMerra's presence was announced. Reggie let the men in, and   
Scully and Skinner stood nearly side by side like line backers,   
preparing for the round of explanations on just what they were   
about to do.

"Here we are Skinner. So, what are we doing?" Anthony asked   
as he chewed on what might have been a toothpick, his body   
relaxed yet alert as his hands rested in his pants pockets.

"I know how to get into the cell block, and my friend Reggie here   
will help us get in and out of the place as inconspicuously as   
possible. We'll need all the fire power we can get, so everyone   
needs to be packing. I don't know how much opposition we're   
going to come across, but with seven of us, we should be ok."

"You're taking the bitch?" one of Anthony's men, Stan barked   
out, laughter in his tone.

Beside him, Skinner felt Scully bristle, and he almost threw an   
arm out to hold her back.

"She can take care of herself, so I'd suggest you don't piss her   
off, unless you want to go back to Jersey in a box," Skinner   
retorted. "Anyhow, its an hour drive from here to San Quentin, so   
it'll be dark by the time we get outfitted and leave. Let's get   
moving."

With that, Reggie walked around the room, handing Skinner,   
Scully, Anthony and his boys Pacific Gas & Electric uniforms.   
The utility company provided service to the Bay Area, and no   
one would question a repair truck with workers on site.

"Time to suit up," stated Reggie as he zipped up his blue   
jumpsuit and attached the work belt. Then, as everyone else   
continued to do the same, he walked over to the basement door,   
unlocked it and flipped the light switch.

Walking down, he stood at the foot of the stairs as Scully,   
Skinner and the rest of the group followed. Scully's jaw dropped   
and Anthony let out a bark of laughter as they walked into the   
basement.

"Fuck! A man after my own heart!"

Before them was spread out a virtual banquet of weaponry.   
Glassed over tables, wall mounted racks flanked the room. It was   
a literal arsenal.

"You're not dealing this stuff, are you Reg?" asked Skinner with a   
look of concern as he moved to look over the Uzis in the case   
closest to him.

"Nah. Its my own personal collection. Besides, in this   
neighborhood, I wouldn't let anyone know about this, or I'd have   
unexpected visitors that I'd have to dispose of," he replied with a   
look that stated that he wouldn't be adverse to doing whatever it   
took to keep his 'collection' safe.

While Anthony's men quickly pointed at things and Reggie   
unlocked ammo boxes and the cases for them to haul things out,   
Scully simply glanced at everything: the semi-automatic guns,   
the machine pistols, the demolitions equipment. Near the front of   
the basement, there was a small grouping of silent weapons.   
Close quarters armament. One in particular caught her attention.

A British commando dagger. Without conscious thought, she   
reached down and popped the strap from where it trapped the   
pommel and carefully slid the weapon from its black sheath.

It was heavier than she'd expected, the handle weighing oddly in   
her hand. The blade felt light in comparison, even though it was   
longer than her hand was. The dark steel glinted in the harsh   
light of the florescent tubes overhead.

Finally she reached for the sheath to put the weapon away.   
Before she could slide the tip of the knife into the casing, one of   
Anthony's goons came up beside her. Part of her wanted to   
automatically flinch from the man's presence, but she held her   
ground, turning her eyes towards him in questioning.

"Nice pig-sticker," Dominic commented, giving her a cold look,   
then plucked the blade and sheath from her hands, shoving the   
weapon into place and then quickly finding a spot on his belt for   
the weapon.

Scully felt herself inwardly pale. The words hadn't been lost on   
her. If it wasn't for Skinner's connection with Anthony, his ability   
to help free Anthony's father, these men would be happy to finish   
her and her boss off.

She wandered back to where the ammo was stacked up,   
searched around and picked up another two clips for her service   
weapon. With allies like these, she thought, the men who had   
Mulder didn't stand a chance.

\- X -

San Quentin Penitentiary  
San Rafael, CA

 

It was late, and as Reggie flashed the guard at the front gate his   
doctored work order, they just flagged the PG&E utility van   
through. Driving through the gates, they followed an access road   
around the far side of the prison, hugging the water's edge.   
Finally they stopped around the backside of the penitentiary.

Clamoring out of the back doors, the group followed Skinner   
down a sloping path, leading them to a large iron grate. Reggie   
produced a set of bolt cutters from his belt and cut the lock.   
Skinner then reached forward and pulled the gate open, allowing   
them to walk slowly single file into the dark, narrow tunnel until   
they were stopped by a large metal door with a keypad lock.

Scully leaned against the cement wall and looked at the gathered   
group of invaders while she hoped that Skinner had the access   
code for the door. The last thing they needed, she thought sourly,   
was to have to find another way in. Watching Anthony's   
nervousness covered by a show of bravado made her concerned   
as to what would happen if Skinner couldn't deliver on his   
promise.

Of course, that would mean that her chances to find Mulder   
would take a turn for the worse too. And she didn't believe that   
her boss would risk the wrath of both the mob and her.

Suddenly, a loud popping sound rang through the cement tunnel,   
and the door opened, swinging inward. At the door, Scully saw   
Skinner pull his weapon and flip off the safety. Around her, she   
heard everyone else do the same, some of the gangsters pulling   
back the slides on their automatic weapons. Once everyone was   
set, Skinner entered, everyone following, split up in two's - Scully   
and Reggie, Anthony and Stan, Dominic and Vincent Jr.

As they walked into the new area, they began to realize that this   
was the hidden tunnel network that Skinner had mentioned. It   
was supposed to lead down underneath San Quentin, to let   
people that would rather move unseen visit the special set of   
semi-secret isolation cells. As they carefully moved through the   
corridors, they took care to avoid several guards in uniforms that   
were patrolling the passageways. Scully gave Skinner a look of   
shock when she saw the first of the uniformed men, and he came   
to her side. Whispering, he explained that the guards in the   
network and this special ward only look like regular correctional   
guards - in fact, they were hand-picked special ops - Men in   
Black.

Silently they moved through the corridors, Skinner leading them   
at each intersection until they finally reached a larger, more open   
area where a dozen or so guards were seated and milling   
around. The center of the operation, obviously. With silent   
signals that Scully was sure they'd perfected in 'Nam, Skinner   
and Reggie communicated their plan. From what she could   
guess, it was going to be *lots* of fun.

Skinner turned around the corner and began firing into the crowd   
of guards, hitting chairs and tables, sending coffee and   
paperwork flying as Reggie's guns followed, shooting at the   
guards that were starting to flee towards the walls, support posts   
and any other cover they could find.

With the chaos in front of them, Anthony and his men stormed   
into the room, their guns spraying bullets in all directions. Scully   
stood at the entryway, stunned for a long moment as she   
watched the carnage.

One of Anthony's men, Stan had rushed up on one of the guards   
and shot him point blank in the chest. Not once, but three times   
and then ran off, looking for other men to kill. Skinner and Reggie   
had stopped behind a large pillar and took turns coming out from   
behind the cover to shoot the guards that were using the table as   
a makeshift barricade. Anthony had snuck up behind a couple of   
guards where they were holed up, trying to get a radio working to   
send out an alarm when he shot them both, rapid-fire and ripped   
the cord from the radio.

A shiver went up Scully's spine as her mind grasped what she   
was seeing. It was a indiscriminate war out there.

And she had to go out there and do this as well.

Scanning the room, she found Skinner and Reggie under heavy   
fire, and she traced the guards who were shooting at them.   
Running in, she fired her Sig, hitting one in the shoulder, another   
in the chest as she dodged Anthony's men and incoming bullets   
that seemed to whiz past her.

She nearly skidded across the room to where Skinner and   
Reggie were still battling it out with a few of the guards. She   
leaned around the large post and fired off a few shots in the   
same direction as her boss and his friend were aiming.

Within what seemed minutes though, the number of gunshots   
ringing out through the room was slowing, then finally came to a   
halt as Scully realized that they'd killed or wounded to the point   
of surrender or unconsciousness all the guards that had opposed   
them.

Once they'd cleared the area, Reggie and Vincent Jr., who had   
been shot in the shoulder and the side secured the door, making   
sure they didn't have any unexpected company before they'd   
gotten Carmine out.

The rest of the force hurried along the side wall of the room   
where a series of isolation cells were located. Who they held was   
uncertain, as each door had a number and no name. Skinner   
moved hurriedly in front, looking at each tag briefly before   
stopping at the second to the last cell. Flipping open the window   
port, Skinner looked inside, and with a nod, he confirmed that   
they had located their objective.

"Open it!" shouted Anthony.

Quickly Stan and Dominic shot the lock off the door in a blinding   
flash of gunfire. Dominic slammed his foot into the dented metal   
of the door, and it fell inward with a crash.

He sat on his cot, nonchalantly reading the latest issue of   
Playboy, He waived in the air in front of him to clear the dust   
kicked up by the fallen door, readjusted his reading glasses, and   
went back to his magazine. Age had grayed the hair at his   
temples, and some of the muscle had gone to fat, but the old   
man still had the countenance of a swaggering bull that Anthony   
recognized from pictures of his father.

"Are you Carmine DiMerra?" asked Anthony.

The old man set down his magazine and took off his glasses. He   
blinked up at the group of people standing in his cell door, guns   
in hand.

"You fuckers gonna pull those pistols or are you gonna stare me   
to death?" he spat with an equal measure of defiance and   
boredom.

"We ain't here to kill you," smiled Anthony, "We're here to take   
you home."

Carmine sniffed disdainfully, ever the old bull. He picked up his   
magazine and glasses, returning to his reading. "Sorry kid.   
Carmine DiMerra don't fly coach."

"But I'm your son!" Anthony stammered.

Carmine looked over Anthony with a disgust, sneering. "What   
bitch popped you out?"

Shock turned to anger, and Anthony replied, "My mother and   
your wife, Angelica DiMerra."

"Ah, *that* bitch," said Carmine, never looking up from the skin-  
rag. "You don't want me kid. Go spring the milkman down the   
hall."

Scully saw the mobsters shuffling at the door to the cell. She   
sized up the situation quickly.

"The family reunion will have to wait until later. It's time to go,"   
Scully announced loudly over the alarm that suddenly pierced   
the room. Shoving herself into the small room, she grabbed the   
Italian man by the arm and dragged him out of the cell.

Hurriedly they made their way across the cell block, carefully   
avoiding the bodies strewn all over. Once they were out of the   
cell block, Skinner started running through the corridors heading   
back out the way they'd come in, hoping that the men behind him   
would shoot anyone who got in their way. Luck was with them   
though as they made their way out the main door, through the   
tunnel and to the PG&E truck before anyone else arrived.

Shoving Carmine and Anthony roughly into the back, Scully   
climbed in, followed by Anthony's goons. In the front, Reggie and   
Skinner got in and they sped towards the gate, barely slowing   
down for Reggie to sign them out and head for the freeway.

Soon they were on the road, and Skinner directed Reggie to   
head across the Golden Gate Bridge to San Francisco, instead   
of going back directly to Oakland. As Reggie drove, Scully did   
what she could for Vinnie Jr. with the limited supplies she had.   
The jarring of the truck as they hit potholes in the road didn't help   
either, but she got him patched up. Those that were in the back   
of the truck were able to strip off their jumpsuits and had them   
piled with the work belts on the floor of the truck.

After what seemed like an eternity, the van stopped and Skinner   
pounded on the metal wall to the back part of the truck to let   
them know that it was ok to get out. Scrambling out, Scully   
looked out to see that they were in a small, grimy street in front   
of an all-night Vietnamese restaurant. Skinner and Reggie were   
at the door, sans their jumpsuits as well, talking animatedly with   
an Asian man in his fifties in a tacky neon-yellow suit.

Behind her, Carmine and Anthony were climbing out of the truck,   
being helped by Anthony's men. They all seemed nonplussed by   
the turn of events, and headed right into the restaurant without a   
second thought. Scully followed them, hesitating at the door until   
Skinner came up beside her.

"It's alright Scully. The place is safe. The owner's an old friend,"   
he explained as the small Asian man directed them to a couple   
of tables near the back of the place.

"Seems like you have a lot of *friends* in San Francisco," Scully   
quipped almost sarcastically at Skinner as they sat. Carmine and   
Anthony sat down across from her, while Reggie and her boss   
were on either side of her. Anthony's men sat at another table,   
their eyes focused on the doors and their menus, their   
conversation joking and normal. As if they hadn't blown away a   
dozen men tonight.

"A lot of the guys came through the bases in California, The   
Presidio and Fort Bragg to name a few, after their tours were   
over, or after they'd been medically evacuated to the States," he   
said as one of the waiters brought them some water. "Some of   
them ended up coming back after they got their discharge and   
found that the States didn't particularly want them back."

Scully frowned and then focused her attention to the man whose   
hands Skinner was putting Mulder's life into. Sitting together at   
the table, Anthony was talking quietly with Carmine, trying to   
convince the man that his mother, Carmine's wife had given birth   
to him after Carmine had disappeared. And that in the years   
following his birth, he'd heard stories about the old man, but   
never imagined that he'd ever meet his father.

"I ain't your daddy," Carmine harshly told Anthony, loud enough   
for the whole restaurant to hear if there had been anyone there   
besides them to care. "That slut of a mother of yours was two-  
timing me with my best friend, Joe Salvatore. That fucking   
bastard that set me up to take the fall, and because of some   
fucked up sense of loyalty to *him* and the family, I got shut up in   
that hell hole the last 25 years!"

"They call him the First Elder now," Skinner said, interrupting   
their discussion.

"The only time that fat fuck was ever first was getting to the buffet   
table," Carmine replies, laughing hoarsely.

"Well, things have changed," retorted Skinner. At that, Carmine   
glared at Skinner with a deadly stare. "We need your help. We   
need some information on Joe, and you're the only one who   
knows *everything* about him."

"Oh, I know *everything*, alright," Carmine spat, then grabbed   
his water glass and took a large swig. "Can I get something   
fucking stronger than this?"

The waiter came back with a glass of red wine and a carafe,   
placing them on the table before the old man. Grudgingly,   
Carmine took the glass and gulped down a large swallow of the   
wine, then refilled his glass again.

"It's been 25 years since I've had a decent glass of wine. I guess   
I'll have to wait a while longer," he said humorously, then turned   
back to Scully and Anthony. "So, you need me to tell you about   
Joe, this 'First Elder' now, huh? Well, it's a long story. I was   
chief, a made man and a young success in my Family. I'd   
brought Joe in, opened up all the connections that made the fat   
bastard a success. I guess that was *my* fucking mistake. He   
started screwing *my* wife, making his own deals within *my*   
organization. I gave him a chance to confess, to make retribution   
for the crimes against me and the Family. Instead the fucker   
turned on me, going to the Feds and bringing in one of their   
agents to fuck me over. And in case you didn't know it, that   
man's sitting right here."

Carmine pointed a finger across the table at Skinner, causing the   
A.D. to tense as he reached out to scoop up some of the newly   
arrived food that the owner had sent over.

"This guy lived as one of my men for over a year, and I trusted   
him 'cause Joe vouched for him. I took him under my protection,   
helped him through some rough spots and I told him stuff I   
wouldn't even tell my own priest. So, the next thing I know, Walt   
here is gone, Joe is gone and the Feds are busting my ass. They   
give me some shit about handing over some of the Captains of   
the other Families, so they can get inside the other operations,   
but I didn't tell them shit! So they throw my ass in that hell hole   
under San Quentin pen," Carmine continues, and takes another   
swig of the wine. "After a while, I figured they'd just forgotten I   
was down there, but I never gave up the prospect that one day   
I'd be able to have my revenge on everyone who sold me down   
the river, especially Joe."

Scully looked up from the food on her plate that she was   
stubbornly trying to convince her stomach that she needed to   
eat. Unfortunately the dining conversation was making it difficult.   
She glanced over at Skinner and saw the discomfort in his face   
at Carmine's tale. There was something more that had gone on,   
a long buried secret that seemed to be weighing on him,   
especially now that the story was being aired out, so to speak.

"Anyhow, for some reason I still doesn't have a clue to, Walt   
came and saw me one last time before they shoved me in that   
cell. He offered to give someone in the Family a message. Since   
I didn't know who to trust anymore, and even though I didn't trust   
Walt, I made him a tape, and told him that he should give it to the   
one man he was sure would carry out my vendetta. Walt   
promised he'd give it to that person, though I don't know whom   
he sent it to. . . "

"He sent it to me, when I was sixteen," said Anthony, making   
sure his father knew that Skinner believed his son was the one   
person who would carry out Carmine's orders.

Carmine nodded, finally understanding Walt's reasons for   
offering to take the tape. He'd suspected that Walt might not give   
it to one of the Captains, because they knew Walt to be   
something other than a wiseguy. And he knew full well that   
Skinner probably assumed, and correctly so, that he was one of   
those that were listed on the vendetta tape.

Skinner had sat there and listened to Carmine, but realized that   
the former mob boss didn't know the real reasons why he'd been   
locked up in San Quentin's secret guest rooms.

"I had my reasons for waiting until Anthony was old enough to   
help you," Skinner said, and then began to tell his version of the   
story. "The First Elder, Joe Salvatore, had been turned by the   
Bureau and offered to set you up. I got assigned to the case   
because they needed someone with a fresh face, but old   
experience. You probably think that Joe had something to do   
with my coming into the Family, but in truth, a man that I now   
know as the Cancerman had seen to it that I was assigned to the   
case. He wanted me to get close to you, Carmine, and to report   
the dirt I got on you and Joe."

Scully almost gasped as she realized how far back her and   
Mulder's nemesis' had his reach into their situation. Here he'd   
been involved in the early formation of the Consortium, and   
gathering information on all sides to use as he saw fit.

"But the First Elder realized that Carmine was his weakness, and   
decided to rush the investigation, getting it closed prematurely,   
which lead to them pressuring Carmine into fingering his bosses.   
The First Elder planned to use what Carmine knew to squeeze   
the other Mob bosses into doing what he wanted, allowing him to   
control them and thus consolidating his power, while at the same   
time, getting rid of Carmine."

Carmine was surprised to say the least, as he nearly spit his   
wine back into his glass. The fat fuck had backstabbed him, and   
wanted him dead as well!

"When Carmine wouldn't give up his Family and the others, the   
First Elder ordered his death, but the Bureau was directed to lock   
him up in that cell under San Quentin. It seemed that someone   
higher up, maybe Cancerman, maybe someone else thought that   
Carmine could be used as a trump card in case they ever had to   
go up against the First Elder," Skinner explained at length,   
watching the faces of Scully, Anthony and Carmine as he relayed   
the story to them. "You were living, breathing proof of the First   
Elder's past, that he had tried to blackmail the Mob. If you ever   
saw the light of day again, what you know about him would be   
more than enough to make the Families break their affiliation   
with him, and he'd have a contract out on him in an hour."

Finishing the last of the wine, Carmine seemed to have   
processed the new facts that Skinner had given him in cold   
silence. Finally, the old man shrugged and asked the men at the   
other table for a cigar. Dominic stood up and handed the man   
one, which he shoved in his mouth as the made man pulled out a   
lighter and lit the cigar. He puffed on it a few times as Dominic   
sat back down. All this really didn't mean much. He just had to   
add this Cancerman to the list of men he needed to kill in   
addition to Skinner and the Elder. But first the First Elder.

"So, here I am. What now," Carmine asked, pushing himself   
away from the table. At his side, Anthony had lit a cigarette and   
had gotten up to stand beside his father.

"I think Anthony has rooms somewhere in the area, so you   
probably should leave here and get squared away before they   
come looking for the truck. We should meet tomorrow at noon.   
The same place Anthony," Skinner said, getting up himself as he   
turned to look at Scully's stricken face. "Tomorrow I'll tell you   
how you can help us find the First Elder, and Mulder in the   
process."

With that, Carmine shoved his chair back, and Anthony and his   
men walked out with him, leaving Scully, Skinner and Reggie in   
the deserted restaurant.

"Come on, let's grab a cab and get some rest," Skinner started,   
and when he saw Scully start to protest, he hurried to add, "It's   
just a few more hours Scully. Trust me, we're going to get Mulder   
back."

She started to open her mouth, then bit back her retort. He was   
right. For now, she had to be patient and trust that Skinner knew   
what he was doing. The only problem was that the one person   
she did trust was the same person whom she was looking for.

\- X -

300 California St.  
Tenth floor  
San Francisco, CA

 

The First Elder strode into the Consortium's offices in San   
Francisco early in the morning. He'd had to charter a jet from   
New York when he'd received word of the jailbreak, the news   
that Carmine was still alive and had been the prisoner that had   
been rescued from the underground jail cells. He was angry, and   
had ordered his men to get him something to eat. He always ate   
when he was annoyed, and this fuck-up was making him   
ravenous.

He had already taken over many of Cancerman and the Well   
Manicured Man's projects, but he hadn't come across a single   
reference to Carmine's continued existence on the planet. He'd   
been sure that his orders had been obeyed, and that the   
dangerous prick had been dealt with. Obviously, that wasn't the   
case, as someone else had tucked him away, most likely to use   
against him.

When he'd been told of the jailbreak, he'd issued orders to make   
sure that anyone who knew of the identity of the man in the cell   
be killed, knowing that if the Consortium found out about any of   
this, they could use it against him. Kick him out of his seat of   
power.

Moving to sit in the rich padded leather chair, the First Elder ran   
his hands on the finely polished mahogany desk. The San   
Francisco office might be smaller, but it was furnished as befit a   
man of his station. Looking to the phone, he started to consider   
what needed to be done, and who was still a threat.

Picking up the receiver, he dialed a long distance number from   
memory. After what seemed like forever, he heard the Mandarin   
speaking man on the other end answer.

"There's an opportunity that I would like to discuss with you," the   
First Elder stated to the Chinese diplomat, one of the   
knowledgeable in the Consortium. "There will soon be a space   
on the council that will need to be filled. It is a vacuum that could   
be filled by someone who could discreetly take care of a small   
inconvenient problem of mine. I have several people that I need   
disposed of, by someone that cannot be traced back to me.   
There are five people, all in San Francisco, California, in the   
United States. I will give the person whom you send the   
information they'll need."

At the other end of the line, the Chinese diplomat, blinded by the   
promise of power, agreed to send their best assassin, Kwan Hui,   
on the next flight to San Francisco to dispose of the problem.

Hanging up the phone, the First Elder smiled for the first time   
since hearing about the jail break. Then through the door came   
one of his men with a tray of food. His smile got broader. Nothing   
was better than food. Not even killing.

\- X -

 

Hong Kong International Airport (HKG)  
Chek Lap Kok, Hong Kong

 

Standing, looking at the departure boards, the handsome Asian   
man subconsciously chewed on his lower lip. He hated the fact   
that he had agreed to this. But there was nothing else to do.

It was a matter of duty and loyalty

And he knew all about loyalty.

His family was Nung, ethnic Chinese that had lived for   
generations on the mean streets of Vietnam, carving out an   
existence as criminals and mercenaries, outlaws known for being   
as ferocious in loyalty as they were in battle. His father, his   
brothers, and all his uncles had fought alongside the large   
Americans in their green berets, had listened to the smoking men   
in their ill-fitting suits, and had continued to fight for a free   
Vietnam where the Nung were looked down upon as bandit   
scum: a fight for which all the men of his family died, either   
quickly under the treads of NVA tanks as they stormed through   
Saigon, or slowly from the hunger and disease in the Thai   
refugee camps. So he knew all about loyalty.

He knew even more about betrayal.

The men of his family had lived by the gun for many years:   
against the Viet Cong, and before them the Viet Minh, and before   
them the Japanese. Now he would continue in that legacy, and   
live by the gun for the glory of his Triad, and for the survival of   
his family.

He was the last now; all the family had traveled across the seas   
to a new life in America, where they could make their own path.

His great-grandmother, the matriarch of the family was the only   
one besides himself who had refused to emigrate. He still   
remembered her words.

"I have walked down enough roads," she had said when faced   
with the possibility of leaving Vietnam.

After bringing her family through the fall of Saigon and out of the   
death of the camps, no one would begrudge this last wish. When   
she breathed her last words, Kwan was the only one of her   
children to be there to hear them.

"I have no regrets, little one. I chose to live this life, and I chose   
to die this death."

Kwan had tried to display outwardly the honor she deserved, but   
his attempts only caused her to sigh, as if she regretted his   
loyalty. She spoke to him of the hardships she faced, the pain   
spent to see her children live. But he did not see the purpose of   
her words, only feeling the weight of his duty grow heavier.

"You are a strong man to live without hope, little one. But it takes   
even greater strength to hope among death." Reaching out, she   
had found his hand and pressed into the palm her Buddhist   
amulet, curling his fingers over the metal. "You must find that   
hope, my little one. That matters so much more than if you ever   
find a new life."

As the speakers overhead announced his flight, he shook himself   
back into the present. These thoughts did little to ease his mind   
as he shouldered his carry-on and prepared to board the plane to   
America, and continue his family's tradition of death.

\- X -

San Francisco International Airport (SFO)  
South San Francisco, CA

 

When the plane landed at San Francisco International Airport,   
Kwan disembarked and found a man holding a sign with his   
name on it waiting at the gate. After being shuttled through   
customs, the man took his bags and led him to the exits. At the   
curb sat a dark sedan, and the man opened the back door for   
Kwan, then stowed the bags in the trunk. Once Kwan was in, he   
slammed the door and got into the passenger seat up front as   
the driver started the car, pulling onto the road.

In the back, Kwan looked across the compartment at the First   
Elder, who handed him a folder with photographs of the targets.

As he looked them over, the First Elder explained who they were   
and what priority they were to be eliminated. Kwan listened and   
looked at the photographs as the car sped along, and realized   
that the assignment he'd been sent on wasn't as clean cut as   
he'd been told. The folder he had on his targets included an old   
man and a woman.

He wasn't adverse to killing old men and women on general   
principle, but something seemed wrong about this.

Still, it really didn't matter, because what he liked or didn't like   
had no relevance in the matter. He was here to do a job.

The First Elder then pushed across the limo floor a large duffle   
bag. Kwan seized it by the handles and pulled it into his lap.   
Inside was a high powered rifle and scope, a shotgun, several   
handguns, ammo for all of the weapons and a bulletproof vest   
with a black jumpsuit. On top of it all was the key to a hotel room   
and a key for a rental car. Nodding, he zipped the bag up again   
and looked at the large Italian man before him.

"Scully, Carmine and Skinner are your top priorities. They're to   
be terminated at all costs. The rest are secondary," the First   
Elder explained. "Take the car and wait at the warehouse. If they   
happen to find this location, I want to make sure that you're   
waiting for them."

With that, Kwan nodded again. They sat in relative silence until   
the car finally stopped in front of a small hotel. The man who had   
met Kwan at the gate opened the door and ushered him out.   
From behind him, Kwan heard the First Elder say one last thing.

"If you screw this up, there will be no going back."

And then the door closed, leaving Kwan to figure it out on his   
own.

\- X -

New York City  
Offices of the Consortium

 

The silver haired man known to Mulder and Scully as the Well   
Manicured Man sat at the head of the table, even though it wasn't   
his seat any longer. The First Elder had moved him aside. First   
by arranging the death of his companion Dr. Benita-Sayers, then   
by going behind his back and creating a new power struggle   
within the group.

Mulder's near suicide and the attempt on his associate's life a   
few days afterward had only made the division more apparent.

Now, Mulder had been taken off the streets and moved to a   
location without the group's authorization. It was a foolish move.   
Not more than a day ago Dana Scully and Assistant Director   
Walter Skinner had left for San Francisco from Newark. After   
tying in the New Jersey connection, he had no doubt that they   
were homing in on the First Elder.

And he was more than willing to do anything that would aid them.

Across the room, he heard the door softly open and the stench of   
burning tobacco waft through, preceding the man smoking the   
cigarette.

"Give them whatever they might need to locate Mr. Mulder before   
our associate does something rash," the Well Manicured Man   
said in a deep voice, sliding across the long table a file with   
Skinner's name on it. "You're to contact me if anything goes   
wrong or the situation changes."

Reaching over, the Cigarette Smoking Man picked up the manila   
folder striped with blue and thumbed through it.

"San Francisco," he commented in a soft, smoky tone. "I've   
always loved the fog."

With that, he took a long drag on the butt and plucked it from his   
lips. Grinding the remains into the ashtray at the end of the table,   
he gave a slight grin and walked back out the door, closing it   
behind him.

At the table, the Well Manicured Man turned to look out the   
window at the New York skyline, and wondered just how long it   
would be until he had his rightful place back.

\- X -

Residence of Reggie Earle  
1003 63rd St.  
Oakland, CA

 

Scully sat at the kitchen table watching Reggie clean the S&W   
9mm that he'd taken along on their little adventure to San   
Quentin.

"Reggie," Scully said, getting the man's attention.

He looked up and regarded her seriously, his fingers never   
stopping their slow, even movements as he cleaned the barrel of   
the weapon even as he kept his eyes focused on her as he   
listened.

"I need your help. Skinner said that you could get anything. . . "   
Scully began, sitting on the chair, her arms wrapped over the   
back where her chest pressed against the wood, as her knees   
pushed against the legs. Her eyes dropped as she considered   
her train of thought and where her next words would take her.

After San Quentin, she'd been thinking a lot about her ability to   
protect herself and make a significant contribution in the hunt for   
Mulder. She didn't want to be the helpless female who needed   
the men to protect her. She needed to equalize the playing field   
to her advantage.

"It seems that I don't stand a chance with just my service weapon   
out there. I need something more."

"Like what?" he asked, curious.

There was a long pause before she lifted her gaze back to   
Reggie's. Within her blue eyes, he saw something that reminded   
him of his year in 'Nam. A change that took over men, letting   
them accept and even revel in the horrors they had to do there.   
And in the FBI agent's eyes, he saw something similar.

"I want to be a god. . . " she replied, as she set her service   
weapon and the matching spare on the table with a loud thud,   
making her request clear.

\- X -

Scully had never cared much for guns. She always knew how to   
use them, her father and brothers had taught her to shoot, and   
the FBI had honed those skills. But for Scully, the gun was just a   
tool, a necessary part of what sometimes had to be a dirty job.

The Bureau gave its agents a wider latitude in their personal   
weapons than most law enforcement agencies, but Scully took   
as much interest in her choice of sidearm as she did in the   
manufacture of her scalpels.

Most agents accepted whatever firearm the Bureau was   
assigning as their "standard issue" that month. The few gun-nuts   
that did carry a personal pistol usually chose hand cannons, but   
Scully had used the freedom to buy a pocket pistol: she had   
wanted a small gun that would least get in the way of her real job   
as a pathologist. Having to use her weapon had seemed as likely   
to Scully as one of her clientele getting up off the table and   
walking out the autopsy room.

Then she had been assigned to the X-Files and Fox Mulder.

It wasn't long before she'd mothballed the pocket pistol and took   
to packing a true service weapon like Mulder. It was even less   
time before she'd taken the pocket pistol out of mothballs and   
took to carrying it as a second carry gun. It was only after she'd   
lost Mulder and her badge to that madness in New Mexico, alone   
facing the very real dangers she couldn't define with just her little   
.380 Sig that she vowed to never feel so naked again.

So she armed herself well. Faced with an endless array of   
choices with their esoteric arguments for and against, Scully   
went with the devil she knew: a pair of Sig-Sauer P226 9mm   
semi-autos. One she used as her service weapon. The other,   
she kept as a "just in case" gun.

And now "just in case" was here. The only issue was carrying   
them. That was where the request she had made of Reggie   
came in.

You couldn't go into an unknown situation without enough   
firepower to get out again. So she had to carry both with the least   
amount of difficulty. She'd stopped wearing her shoulder holster   
in favor of the clip waist holster, as that seemed to be the   
smartest and easiest way to carry her gun in the field these days.   
The only problem was she didn't have something that would   
allow her to carry both of her guns at once, and with the odds   
stacked squarely against her, she was going to need that   
firepower.

Finally Reggie returned to the kitchen with a nondescript black   
nylon duffel bag. He tossed it onto the table and pulled the zipper   
open, exposing the contents.

A rig.

Quickly she reached out and picked up the soft brown leather   
contraption, her fingers nearly caressing the soft, well worn   
material and her nails flicking at the brass buckles.

The rig held twin holsters which were connected by straps that   
crossed across the back to a set of magazine pouches that   
would fall lower down the wearer's back, packing enough clips to   
supply your average Hong Kong action flick hero. Between the   
pouches, the straps intersected upon another, smaller holster. As   
she looked at it, she realized that her old .380 Sig could easily fit   
inside, giving her an added weapon in a diagonal quick cross-  
draw across the back. She hadn't packed it, but she had been   
sure she'd seen one in Reggie's stores downstairs.

Slipping one arm through, she adjusted the strap on her   
shoulder, then slipped her other arm through the opposite strap.   
After tugging the rig into place, she slipped the weapons into   
their respective spots and gauged the weight. The holsters   
rested deep under her arms and close to her sides.

It felt good. Too good, in fact. The thought that she consciously   
knew that she was now more dangerous than ever frightened her   
on some level she hadn't even been aware of. She was crossing   
the threshold now. And there was no going back. It was like the   
door to a darker part of herself was opening, and she didn't know   
how it integrated with the rest of her. She was starting to feel   
different, and she wondered if Mulder would even recognize her   
when he saw her again.

Skinner walked in just then, and stopped cold. The sight of his   
agent stunned him. He had always been aware of her quiet   
strength, fierce determination and consistent expertise, but   
this. . . this was an armed and dangerous 5' 2" of red-headed   
intensity. Shit, now he understood why Mulder always came back from   
every misadventure. He had a Valkyrie in 3 inch heels by his   
side every time he went into the field.

Hell hath no fury like Scully pissed off, he though with both   
humor and apprehension.

After a minute, he remembered why he was there. He'd gotten a   
call from the smoker. He still didn't know if he could trust him,   
but Cancerman had made it clear that there were people that wanted   
Mulder found. So he didn't have much choice but to take the   
information on faith.

"Scully," he started, and watched his auburn haired agent turn to   
regard him with an intent blue gaze, "I've got an address."

\- X -

2300 Pier St.  
Oakland Naval Shipyards  
Oakland, CA

 

Scully looked at the warehouse as they drove up the road with   
more than a little skepticism. If the information Skinner had   
gotten was real, the MIB's were in there, but they were keeping   
the place dark.

And if Mulder was there, there was no telling where.

On the roof of a building adjacent to the warehouse, Kwan was   
perched and had been watching the group carefully as soon as   
they had started to come down the road, headed to this location   
he'd been told to watch. Supposedly, among them would be his   
targets. He looked through his scope, scanning the group as they   
drove into the areas in two non-descript cars.

When Skinner noted that there was no one in front of the   
building, no guards or anything, he directed Reggie to pull up to   
the front, parking about ten feet away. As soon as Reggie parked   
his vehicle, Anthony's sedan stopped beside them, and everyone   
surged out of the cars, grabbing guns and shifting equipment as   
they moved quickly for the sliding doors of the building.

Her back shoved up against the cold metal of the warehouse,   
Scully leaned over and spoke quietly to Skinner, his hands   
clenching and unclenching around his S&W 9mm.

"You're sure that they're not waiting for us on the other side?   
That this isn't a well constructed trap to kill us?" she questioned,   
her voice slightly above a whisper.

"No, I'm not," he replied as quietly. "But my source said our   
arrival should be a surprise."

Nodding her understanding, Scully reached across herself and   
pulled both of her Sigs from her rig. She looked at herself,   
sunglasses, white t-shirt and jeans. She looked like she'd   
dressed for a trip to the mall on the weekend. Until she added the   
leather of the rig strapped tightly to her upper body and the two   
weapons held in her hands into the equation. No, she was about   
to do something far removed from bargain hunting. Closer, she   
suspected to wholesale slaughter.

There was a crunching noise, and Scully looked up to see Stan   
and Skinner pulling open the metal doors of the warehouse. As   
soon as they were open wide enough, Dominic and Vinnie Jr.   
held their Uzi sub machine guns through the opening and   
sprayed bullets inside. Horridly Skinner and Stan opened the   
door all the way, and they rushed inside, hoping to catch   
whomever might be within either injured from the initial attack or   
still unorganized.

Once through the door, they found the inside of the building an   
expanse of space, cluttered by boxes, barrels and equipment.   
There was an upper level that seemed to be an office and rooms   
in the back of the building.

On the floor, two men lay dead, bleeding from multiple gunshots   
from their first volley. But no one else seemed to be there.   
Skinner looked to Scully, the puzzlement on his face obvious.

Then suddenly the room erupted in gunfire as men surged from   
behind boxes and equipment, and everyone returned fire,   
running and diving for cover.

Skinner twisted and dove behind a stack of barrels, and yelped   
as he felt a round pierce his upper leg. Dropping to the ground,   
he looked down to see a bullet wound in his thigh, blood staining   
his jeans and seeping onto the floor. Fuck! he thought silently.   
Quickly, he shoved the heel of his hand down on it, putting   
pressure on the wound. It didn't seem bad, hell he'd survived   
worse, he thought resignedly. Then Reggie was kneeling next to   
him, peeking around the barrels to fire at the MiB's who were   
hiding behind some machinery probably a dozen yards away.

"Here," Reggie said quickly, shoving a gauze packet into   
Skinner's hands. Quickly Skinner shoved the cotton-like material   
into the hole in his jeans and turned to look around the barricade   
he and Reggie had to view the rest of the battle.

Anthony and Carmine had set themselves up behind a stack of   
crates while their men worked at mowing down as many of the   
MiB's as their Uzi sub machine guns could before they had to   
reload. The roar inside the building was enormous, and Skinner   
was glad he didn't have to shout orders over the din.

On the other side of the building, Scully had dived forward when   
the shooting had started, firing her Sigs as she sailed through the   
air. When she landed rather ungracefully to the ground, she   
hurriedly started to get up.

Almost as soon as she was on her feet, Scully flattened to the   
cold cement floor of the warehouse again as a bullet passed just   
where she'd been standing. Behind and to her left, she heard the   
sound of glass breaking as a spray of bullets shattered it. She   
looked up to see gunfire coming through the window from   
outside. They were being attacked from both inside and out!

It had started as soon as they'd moved into the open areas of the   
warehouse. They were under fire, yet from what she could figure   
from the rate and amount of gunfire from the outside, as well as   
the small area that was being blanketed, everything pointed to   
there being only one shooter. And he or she seemed to be   
picking their shots, rather than firing indiscriminately. Strange,   
she thought, then as another volley of gunfire from the men   
inside the warehouse came her way, she shoved the thoughts   
aside to concentrate on the immediate problem at hand.

Crawling across the floor, she found herself behind some large   
wood crates stacked against the wall closest to the shattered   
window. She let herself raise up to her feet, her back to the crate   
that was doing very well as a temporary shield for her. Looking   
around, She noticed Reggie and Skinner still near the door, and   
Anthony and his crew slowly making their way forward. With   
each step, they cut down another MiB in their way.

Suddenly, from the upper level of the warehouse, men started   
appearing from the door to an office, firing into Anthony's   
position. Scully could see them, and leaned out from her position   
to fire on them. She'd emptied the clip in her first gun, so she   
shot her second dry as well before ejecting the clips and   
reloading from the supply at her back. Once she was fully loaded   
again, she looked out into the expanse before her, and decided   
to make a run for it.

Firing at the men above on the walk, Scully sprinted across a   
good portion of the warehouse floor before she skidded to a stop   
behind a forklift. She looked to her left and saw Stan and Vinnie   
Jr. moving her way. While she waited for them, she holstered   
one Sig, and tightened her grip on the weapon still in her hand.

They finally came to a stop near her position, huddled behind a   
few plastic barrels. She pointed to the upper rafters and then at   
them, and then pointed to herself and the lower part of the   
warehouse floor where a few of the MiB's still shot from their   
hiding spots. They nodded, and she counted silently, waiting for   
the inevitable lull in the gunfire.

For a second, there was silence, and the three of them were up   
and moving. Behind her, Scully heard gunfire that she assumed   
was cover fire from Anthony, Carmine and his men. Thankful for   
their timing, she launched herself over a set of low boxes and   
shot the two men who had huddled down behind them to avoid   
the incoming fire from her colleagues. She nearly landed on one   
of the men, who was trying to raise his gun again, so she shot   
him a second time, making sure he was down for good. She   
didn't need him showing up later and shooting her in the back.

On the stairs, she saw a body of one of the MiB's come tumbling   
down, and she heard more gunfire above. When the shots   
slowed, and then stopped, she knew that Anthony's men had   
accomplished their task.

It was finally silent in the warehouse, and Scully stepped out   
from her partial cover cautiously. Across the floor she saw   
bodies, but there didn't seem to be anyone still kicking. Looking   
back to the windows lining the upper walls, she noted that the   
gunfire from outside had ceased as well. She wondered if   
whomever had been shooting at them had left, or was waiting for   
a better shot.

Behind her, she heard grunting, and she turned swiftly to see   
Skinner being helped by Reggie to sit on a low crate. There was   
a white bandage stuck on his leg, and she realized that he must   
have been wounded somewhere along the lines. Without   
hesitation, she started towards him, but was halted by his voice.

"I'm fine Scully. Go look for Mulder," Skinner called out from   
where he sat when he saw her start towards him.

She nodded, thankful for her boss' consideration. Hurriedly she   
ran towards the back of the warehouse where there seemed to   
be some built-in structures, offices, storage areas ad the like.   
There was a corridor of sorts where the walls created a small   
space between them. Scully cautiously crept down the corridor.   
At the end of the hallway, she found an ajar door of a small   
closet-sized room. Flattening herself to the wall, she turned, Sig   
up and ready as she entered.

Moving into room with the barrel of her gun leading, she looked   
inside, noting the poor conditions and the lingering smell of   
human waste and sweat. There was a filthy mattress and a toilet   
that seemed to be barely functioning. By the wall farthest from   
the toilet, there was an open plastic cooler with shredded   
wrappers and empty water bottles. Beside it, she saw something   
familiar and moved towards it.

Laying on the floor was Mulder's watch. She recognized it from   
the splatters of white paint he'd gotten on it a few weeks before   
trying to paint his living room.

Bending down, she picked it up and held it tightly, her eyes   
closing as she felt the flood of emotions hit her at once. He had   
been there, but he was gone now.

So close, and yet so far.

Yelling from outside the room made Scully open her eyes and   
turn from her spot within Mulder's former makeshift prison.   
Quickly she headed back to the main area of the warehouse.   
She was in time to see Stan and Vinnie Jr. emerge from one of   
the upstairs rooms with one of the defending goons in tow. From   
the immediate looks of him, he hadn't been hurt - much.

Scully could see the darkening of what would end up being a   
black eye and blood was running from his lip. She could also   
see, as they brought him down the stairs to where she and   
Skinner were that he was clutching an arm around his torso, as if   
he'd been punched in the gut at least once before they started to   
haul him downstairs.

Watching Stan and Vinnie Jr. make their way down the flight of   
stairs, Skinner worked to get up from the crate he'd been resting   
on and carefully made his way to Scully' side. For at least ten   
minutes, there's been no gunfire from their 'mysterious' lone   
gunman outside the warehouse, so he felt safe enough for Scully   
and himself to be out in the open. Obviously the fact that the   
gunfire had stopped meant either the point was to hold them in   
place to allow something or someone to escape, or it had been a   
failed attempt to kill one of them in this room, and whomever it   
was had given up once they'd realized their window of   
opportunity had passed. Truthfully, Skinner didn't like either one   
of those possibilities.

As he moved to stand awkwardly next to Scully, he looked her   
over. He saw something clutched in her left hand, which she   
quickly pocketed. Evidence, he guessed. But the look on her   
face was more disturbing. The mask that he'd seen so many   
times in his office was hard, nearly cemented in place. Beneath   
it, he thought he saw glimpses of pain and a deep distress.   
Whatever she'd found had caused her emotions, usually so   
controlled to come bubbling to the surface, and she was now   
overcompensating to get some kind of control back.

Tearing his gaze from his agent, Skinner looked at the MiB that   
they'd captured. Their best bet at this point was to try to get   
whatever information they could from him about who had taken   
Mulder and where he was. He then glanced over to where   
Carmine stood next to Anthony and Dominic, and then back to   
Vinnie Jr. as he and Stan hauled the MiB down the stairs.

Stan and Vinnie Jr. finally arrived in the space near Scully and   
Skinner, shoving the man forward. While he stumbled, he kept   
his balance and pulled up just in front of the two FBI agents.   
Then, before Skinner could take possession of their prisoner and   
the situation, Scully surprised him by swiftly reaching out and   
catching the man roughly by his blood-spattered shirt collar.

"It seems like your friends are either dead or gone running for the   
hills," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Unless you want to join   
the ones laying all over the floor, I'd suggest you talk to me right   
now, and tell me where they took Mulder."

The MiB gave her a slight, quick assessment with his eyes,   
sizing her up and then proceeded to laugh as he yanked himself   
out of her grasp. He turned his head away and spat some bloody   
saliva to the floor.

"After these two goombahs pound me and I said nothin', you   
expect me to be intimidated by a little girl scout like you?"

A pale auburn eyebrow arched, and Skinner felt the temperature   
in the room drop 50 degrees. Shit, pissing off Scully at this   
moment was not the smartest thing this guy could have done. He   
could only hope that she was rationally thinking about how much   
they needed this guy to tell them what he knew.

The next few moments went by in a rush of sounds, sights and   
smells. He heard the safety snap off her Sig in the now quiet   
building, and the MIB looked at her with a disbelieving   
expression. Then the warehouse was suddenly filled with the   
crack of a gunshot and the smell of gunpowder.

Oh shit, Skinner thought as his brain had finally processed what   
had just happened.

"Aughhhh!!! You Fucking bitch! You shot me!" screamed the MiB.

Skinner continued to stand there, slack jawed and horrified as he   
watched the man quickly crumple to the floor, his left knee shot   
clean through. In front of him, Scully's gun issued a barely visible   
wisp of smoke from its barrel. Across from him, Carmine,   
Anthony and his men gave what could only be called grudging   
approval of the rogue agent's tactics, their opinion of his agent   
seeming to go up a notch.

"Do you want to answer my question, or go for two," she asked   
harshly, steel lining her voice as she lowered her gun to sight the   
man's other knee.

The MiB tried to scramble to a sitting position, ending up with his   
hand propping him up, his bleeding leg stuck out before him   
while his other was folded up beneath him. It made the shot to   
the knee more difficult, but far from impossible.

"I don't *know*!" he wailed, his voice breaking on the last word.   
"They didn't tell most of us where they were moving him next. All   
I was supposed to do was keep you busy while they got him out.   
That's all I know!"

"That's too bad for you," Scully remarked, her voice deadly   
serious. "Anthony, you can let your men do what they want with   
this piece of shit. I'm done with him."

At that, The MiB looked nervously around, expecting a bullet any   
minute. He wasn't disappointed as Anthony gave his men a   
signal, and Vinnie Jr. fired his gun into the man's head, his body   
falling to the floor.

As soon as two of Anthony's men had helped Skinner up, they   
were on their way out to their cars.

Only to be brought up short by the sight of the handsome Asian   
man dressed in a stylish black suit with the sniper rifle standing   
in front of their cars.

\- X -

Kwan Hui stood confidently in front of the two American sedans   
as the group of gunmen came out the door of the warehouse. It   
only took seconds before every gun was pointed in his direction.

"Wait!" Scully screamed over the sounds of weapons cocking   
and angry voices shouting.

Everything seemed to come to a halt as Scully holstered her Sig   
and approached the man with the rifle. She had a feeling this   
was her mystery sniper. But what puzzled her was why he'd   
stopped firing and what he was doing here, standing in the open,   
waiting for them. It was almost as if he wanted them to kill him.   
Or he was leading them into another trap.

"Agent Dana Scully?" Kwan asked as he threw the strap of his   
rifle over his shoulder, and sketching a polite bow in her   
direction.

She looked at him skeptically, her eyebrow raising a bit in   
unconscious gesture. Glancing over her shoulder, she confirmed   
that between Reggie, Skinner and Anthony's men, that this   
mystery man was well covered. Once she had established that,   
she felt willing to talk.

"Yes, I'm Dana Scully. And you are?"

"My name is Kwan Hiu, and I was sent here to kill you, and some   
of these men with you."

There was a sudden shift in the men behind her, and she threw   
her hand up, hoping that they would interpret it correctly as a   
hold signal. If he'd been sent there to kill her, kill some of the   
others with her, he must have been sent by the man who had   
Mulder. And if that was the case, he might know where Mulder   
was, or who specifically had him. But before she could say   
anything, Skinner broke in first.

"If you were sent to kill us, then you probably were sent here by   
the man we believe took someone important to Agent Scully and   
myself, Agent Fox Mulder. Scully found Mulder's watch in the   
warehouse. Do you know where they took him," Skinner asked,   
pulling himself up straighter as his regarded the man before him.

"I don't know who has this Mulder. I was sent here for one job   
only. To follow the orders of someone here in the States to kill   
those of you whom he felt were a threat to his government,"   
Kwan replied.

"You know that's a lie," Scully informed him directly, her arms   
crossing against her chest. "He had Mulder here, and he sent   
you here to keep us from finding him, and exposing his   
indiscretions to the Consortium."

Swiftly, Scully had crossed the ten feet or so to where Kwan   
stood, pulling one of her Sigs in the process and now held it   
beneath the man's chin.

"I want to know who the man was that you met. Who asked you   
to kill us, and keep us from finding Mulder. Was it the First Elder?   
Was it Cancerman? Who?!" she yelled, her finger pressing lightly   
on the trigger as she impatiently waited for an answer.

Seconds later, Scully found her hand whipped back, the gun   
falling from her grasp as Kwan disarmed her. She started to   
reach for her other gun, but he stepped back and held his hands   
up, showing her his non-aggressive stance.

"My apologies Ms. Scully. I just don't like having those pointed so   
close to me. You never know when they might go off," Kwan   
stated almost humorously. "But to answer your question, I   
believe the man I met with is called the First Elder, as you said.   
He did not say he had this Mulder, but did send me to this   
location to see if you found it. If and when you did, I was to   
execute my orders."

"But you didn't," Skinner said suddenly, cutting into the   
conversation again as he forced the goons helping him stand   
forward to Scully's side.

"No," Kwan said, and Scully looked at him, urging him with her   
eyes to continue, to explain himself.

"I was reluctant to do this thing. While I have killed many people,   
and I come from a line of soldiers, I found myself questioning   
why someone like you," he said, pointing to Scully, "should be   
desired dead. I watched you inside the building, heard reasons   
why you were there. And I found myself wanting to do something   
different. To offer aid to the 'underdog', as it were, rather than be   
the man responsible for killing people who don't deserve the fate   
bestowed upon them by cowards. I wanted to feel what it was   
like to hope for something. Hope like you have, to find your   
friend."

Scully stood there, stunned. She watched the man reach down   
into the dusty ground and retrieve her weapon. He brushed it off   
and held it out to her, grip first. This man had had every chance   
to fulfill his obligation to the First Elder and kill her, kill all of   
them. Instead, here he was, making himself vulnerable, offering   
her a weapon that she could easily take back and shoot him   
dead with.

Moving closer, Scully looked up and swept her eyes over the   
man's face. She took in the spiky black bangs of Kwan's hair,   
then the black bushy eyebrows, simple nose and generous   
mouth. Then she turned her attention to his eyes. Looking   
deeply, she tried to read the piercing dark brown eyes that stared   
at her. She remembered the first time she'd looked into Mulder's   
eyes like this, looked to find the trust that had made them the   
best of partners, best of friends. And, although that level of trust   
wasn't there, she did find enough to accept his answer and his   
help.

"He's coming with us," Scully announced quietly.

"What?!?!" screamed Skinner, Carmine and Anthony at once   
while Kwan looked at her in surprise.

"Shut the fuck up!" she roared back at them. "Do you realize this   
man not *only* chose not to kill us, but came to offer *us* his   
help? He's seen the First Elder. Knows where he's been, knows   
what he's thinking. Fuck, between him and Carmine, we have a   
better shot at getting Mulder back than before. And if he *was*   
going to kill us, he would have done it already!"

They were stunned back into silence at that. She was right.   
There was no reason for this man to have done what he had if he   
just wanted to kill them.

"So, I may help you?" Kwan asked Scully directly.

With a final silent nod of accent, Scully simply stood there while   
Kwan respectfully bowed to her. Then he turned and opened the   
back seat door of the first sedan, and helped Skinner inside, with   
the help of Dominic and Stan. Once he was in, Kwan slid in   
beside him.

Scully shut the door and started for the passenger side while   
Reggie climbed in the driver's seat. As she slammed her own   
door closed, she wondered just what the hell she was doing.

\- X -

Residence of Reggie Earle  
1003 63rd St.  
Oakland, CA

 

Kwan pushed past Scully as he hauled Skinner through the back   
door of Reggie's house. The irony of her boss being carried by   
the man who probably shot him wasn't lost on her. She still didn't   
know what had possessed her to actually agree to let him join   
them as they left the warehouse.

It was an uneasy alliance. Scully didn't trust this assassin farther   
than she could see him. Yet he knew so much about the man   
who had Mulder. He'd made a compelling case, standing there   
on the railroad tracks outside the warehouse in front of their cars.   
After the hailstorm of gunfire inside the warehouse that she was   
sure he'd been responsible for, she'd accepted his help and even   
let him help Skinner into the car. He'd had every chance to kill   
her, kill *all* of them, but instead he was helping her. She shook   
her head in bewilderment.

Across the room, she noted Carmine, Anthony and one of his   
men had come in and started talking on the sofa and love seat   
set near the front door. Inwardly she shuddered as she realized   
how they had simply sprayed the place during the firefight. While   
they had taken their fair share of the MiB's out and found the one   
man hiding upstairs, they weren't there for the same purpose as   
she was.

She knew that their own agenda outweighed her life, as well as   
Skinner's and Mulder's. They were along for the ride, until they   
met up with the First Elder. It was the whole reason they were   
there - waiting until Scully and Skinner could locate Mulder in the   
hopes that search would bring them to the First Elder.

Scully caught up with her boss, as Kwan laid him out on Reggie's   
bed. A minute later, Reggie appeared with a first aid kit. When   
she opened it, she found more than she'd expected. There   
wouldn't be any need to take Skinner to a hospital with all this   
equipment. Again, she looked at Reggie and wondered just what   
the hell he did for a living, really.

"Do you want to lose the jeans, or have me cut them off?" she   
asked her boss, scissors from the first aid kit in hand.

He glared at her, but reached down and popped open the buttons   
and then with Reggie and Scully's help, got them pulled off. For   
her boss' sake, she draped the material across his lap as she   
looked over the bullet wound on Skinner's upper thigh. The bullet   
had gone through cleanly, had missed the bone and artery and   
she didn't feel any major damage, so she doused the wound with   
disinfectant and bandaged the holes up, wrapping the whole   
thing with gauze. She found some antibiotics in the first aid kit,   
and handed them to Skinner while Reggie appeared from the   
bathroom with a glass of water.

"Now I know why Mulder keeps you around," joked Skinner. As   
her face went slack, Skinner instantly regretted reminding her of   
her missing partner. "Scully. . . "

"Just get some rest Walter. We'll deal with everything later," she   
said quietly, and got up from where she'd been kneeling by the   
bed, and walked out.

She stood outside the door and forced herself not to think of   
Mulder. Instead she found herself thinking back on what had   
happened at the warehouse. What she'd done. Shaking her head   
violently, trying to get the images out of her mind, she realized   
that she'd wandered into the kitchen. It must have been an   
unconscious move on her part, looking for a comforting place in   
this stranger's house. Kitchens were mostly the same no matter   
where you went - kitchen table and chairs, refrigerator, sink,   
stove. All so simple and uniform.

Pulling out one of the chairs, she settled into it heavily. Looking   
down at her shirt, she noticed the dust and blood that had   
somehow flecked the white t-shirt. She shrugged. It couldn't be   
helped. She'd toss it, or try and get it clean later. Next she noted   
the leather straps and metal buckles of the rig, and worked to   
shrug the thing off, still fully loaded with her Sigs and the spare   
ammo she hadn't used.

She hung it heavily over the post of the chair next to hers and   
then brought her attention back to the one prize she'd found   
tonight.

Mulder's watch.

Digging in her pocket, she fished it out and held it in front of her.   
She'd been so close. Damn it! If she'd only known that they were   
pinning them down in the front of the building while they spirited   
Mulder out the back, she would have planned for that. Instead,   
they'd come close, but had ended up leaving without their   
objective.

Scully turned the watch over in her hands, her mind full of   
memories. The paint splatters from the last crappy job of painting   
his bedroom that he'd wanted her help in doing. The scratches   
on the face from their side trip in Florida when they'd almost   
been consumed by the exotic plant life. The plastic strap that had   
seen better days. She closed her eyes and just grasped the   
plastic tightly, as if trying to feel him through it.

God, she missed him.

Kwan stood in the doorway of the kitchen and observed the red   
haired woman sitting at the table. Her hands held a watch, which   
Skinner had said she had found at the warehouse. And that it   
belonged to the man she was looking for. This Fox Mulder. Over   
and over again, she turned the timepiece in her hands, her   
fingers almost caressing the face, the band. It was obviously   
unconscious on her part, but since it was the only physical link   
she had to where this Mulder had been, she was communing   
with it as if it held a piece of the man's soul.

He knew what this man Mulder looked like. The First Elder had   
given him pictures of the people on his list to kill. While he wasn't   
expected to kill him specifically, the man had explained it might   
be a bonus. Who was on his list were several of the men he'd   
just helped. And the petite woman in the kitchen before him.

Except that after everything he'd seen happen in the warehouse,   
he had found himself questioning his loyalty to the men who had   
sent him here. What kind of threat could *she* be to Them?   
There was no doubting her fire and intelligence, but what could   
she have done to be put down like a dog?

Beyond that, while he'd watched her in the warehouse, and when   
he'd looked into her eyes as he'd explained himself to her, he   
found himself attracted to the object of his assignment. Yet he   
could see that no matter what he believed he was beginning to   
feel for this remarkable woman, she had someone else that   
occupied her thoughts, and if he guessed correctly, her heart as   
well.

"You care for him?" Kwan asked from the doorway, surprising   
Scully and rousing her from her meditation.

His words brought her up short, and she turned in her chair to   
face the man who had spoken, seeing the assassin that she'd   
agreed to trust, if only on a limited basis. Her eyes flicked to her   
guns, less than a foot away, and wondered how she had   
disregarded everything Mulder had taught her over the last five   
years.

Trust no one.

Except that she had to trust someone. And right now, she could   
use this man's skills to get Mulder back.

Kwan walked toward her, and took a seat in the chair next to her,   
yet across from the rig hooked on the chair by her side. She set   
the watch down reluctantly and returned her thoughts to what   
she thought he'd said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch what you'd asked."

"The man you are looking for," he stated, pointing one long finger   
in the direction of the watch on the table. "Mulder. You care for   
him, yes?"

"Of course. He's my partner," she replied quickly.

"Partner. That is the term Americans use for someone with whom   
they have an. . . intimate relationship with. Is that right?" Kwan   
asked, trying to recall the nuances of the word.

Scully looked at him in shock. Had he misspoken? If he hadn't,   
then he thought. . .

"No, no," she started, her voice insistent and the words almost   
tripping over her tongue in their haste to get out. "Mulder's my   
partner in the FBI. We're not, I mean, he and I, we're not. . .   
involved."

Curiously he stared at her, watching as her cheeks started to   
flush pinkly. In embarrassment, he thought, or something else.

"Pardon me. I just assumed that your relationship was something   
more than business by the way you spoke of him to me and to   
Mr. Skinner. And because of what you seem willing to do to have   
him returned. Such devotion seems to indicate to such a   
relationship, given your partiality for him," Kwan explained at   
length.

Instead of correcting him, Scully found herself having to consider   
his words closely. Certainly both she and Mulder had gone to   
great lengths to aid each other. But they'd always attributed it to   
their partnership, and the friendship that had developed from   
that.

Was it more than that though? On his end, as well as hers? And   
when exactly had begun to realizes that she felt something more   
for Mulder than friendship? Surely it was a recent development,   
maybe just a passing thing, due to his abduction.

Except the longer she thought about it, the more she realized   
that it wasn't something new. It was just her perception of her   
feelings had changed along with her.

When she'd allowed herself to feel the full extent of her baser,   
primal emotions - anger, fear, aggression, she hadn't considered   
that the other base feelings she felt for Mulder would escape as   
well - love, desire, need. And now all the emotions were   
flourishing in the landscape that was Dana Scully unleashed.

The proverbial genie was out of the bottle now, and she didn't   
know if she'd be able to get her emotions for Mulder to go back   
into the box she'd been storing them in and pretend things were   
just like they had been before.

And looking down at the watch in her hand, she was starting to   
recognize the fact that she didn't want to.

\- X -

Unknown location  
Somewhere in the San Francisco Bay Area

 

Mulder awoke and took in his surroundings. His head, arms and   
ribs hurt from the beating he'd taken when they'd forced their   
way into his room and hauled him out, informing him he was   
moving. He'd tried to make a break for it, realizing it might be his   
only chance, and had taken the punishment for it.

At least, he tried to look on the bright side, they hadn't shot him   
on the spot.

His new prison was very much like an old brig. The stale smell of   
sweat, urine and shit that permeated the cement block floor gave   
it away. Of course the layout was obviously prison style - bunks,   
wash basin, toilet, window with bars and the barred door that   
looked out onto the wall of a corridor made it clear. At least it was   
bigger, he sighed half-heartedly.

The smell of the sea was much stronger than before and the   
outside noise was limited. His new space must be part of a much   
larger building, most likely a prison or police station, not like the   
warehouse he suspected he'd been in before.

Why would they have moved him? And so quickly? It was like. . .   
someone knew he had been at the last place he'd been held at,   
and they had to get him out before they were found.

His heart raced at the thought. He could only imagine one person   
risking themselves for him.

Scully.

She was alive. He knew that now. She was alive and searching   
for him. Obviously she had found him once already, which would   
explain why they'd moved him. But if he was here, where was   
she? Did she know he'd been there? Did she know where they'd   
moved him to?

Stretching, he looked up at his hands and noticed his watch was   
missing. Where had. . . Then he remembered that he'd taken it   
off to rub his wrist when he'd been in the small room in the old   
location. Before he could put it back on, they'd come to get him.   
That meant, if it really was Scully, she would search the place   
and find it. She'd know he'd been there.

He could only hope that she was alright, and that she'd be able   
to find him again.

\- X -

Residence of Reggie Earle  
1003 63rd St.  
Oakland, CA

 

Kwan questioned his motives once again as he sat stock still,   
watching the petite red-headed FBI agent pace back and forth in   
front of him. His duty was supposed to be to kill her, yet he'd   
done everything but.

Well, not everything he reminded himself grudgingly, as she   
turned away from him, and he found himself watching her ass.

This man she was looking for, Fox Mulder was a lucky man.

"Carmine. I need your help," Scully said in a strained diplomatic   
tone. "They've moved Mulder and I need you to tell me if you can   
speculate as to where the First Elder would take him. Did he   
have any property here, or maybe some old connections that he   
would use?"

"What makes you think I can guess where that fuck is taking your   
partner after 25 years of being locked up," Carmine spat, wiping   
his mouth on his tailored shirt sleeve as he sat in Reggie's   
recliner.

"Look, I'm not asking for you give me any assistance other than   
information. If you can just say where they might take him in the   
city on such short notice, I can take care of the rest."

Even without anyone voicing it, there was an obvious sound of   
disapproval to her request.

"Dana, you need help. Even if you don't wish it, you must   
consider the danger and the sacrifice you may be called upon to   
make if you decide wrong," Kwan explained, his tongue slipping   
over a few words as his native language accented his nearly   
flawless English.

Scully turned and glared daggers at the Asian man behind her,   
not just for using her given name to try and sway her, but for the   
audacity of him to believe that she needed help. She knew that   
Carmine and Anthony were in agreement with Kwan's position.   
They were the big, tough men and she was the poor,   
defenseless woman who needed their assistance and protection.

Fuck that *and* them, she inwardly growled. In a sudden   
outburst, she slammed her fist into the closest wall, the sound   
startling everyone. Staring first at Kwan, then Skinner, and finally   
at Carmine, she stalked across the room to look Carmine straight   
in the face.

"Jesus Christ, I've had enough of this bullshit. If you don't want to   
tell me anything, just tell me so, goddammit. Don't use the pansy-  
ass excuse of needing to protect me. I don't need anyone to do   
that. Not you Carmine, or your Mafia buddies," she said angrily,   
and she then began to look around her as she spoke, looking   
each man in the eyes as she said their name. "Not you, Kwan,   
not Skinner and his friends and not even Mulder. So unless you   
want to take this outside, I suggest you start being serious with   
me."

The room was silent, and no one knew exactly what to say.

Suddenly, Skinner's cell phone rang, and all eyes fell on him as   
he answered. He didn't say a word, but when he closed the   
phone, he looked at Scully.

"They have him on Treasure Island."

\- X -

San Francisco Bay  
7 miles from Treasure Island/Yerba Buena Island

 

They'd put on the wetsuits just in case they had to abandon ship   
and swim at all in the cold bay. Reggie had explained that during   
the winter, especially after dark it was cold enough to cause   
hypothermia in a couple of minutes - almost as fast a frozen lake.

Reggie manned the Zodiac's outboard motor and rudder as the   
rubber craft cut through the water. On board, Skinner, Scully,   
Kwan, Carmine, Anthony and Anthony's three men kept low in   
the boat, heads forward and focused on the shore of the island in   
front of them.

They'd been en route to the island for what seemed like forever   
after leaving a remote part of the Alameda docks. Reggie had   
assured Scully that they'd be on shore within 30 minutes of   
leaving the harbor, so as she huddled down to check the time on   
the watch around her wrist, Mulder's watch to be precise, she   
knew that it shouldn't be much longer. As the boat skipped in the   
water, sending splashes of the cold wet into the boat and onto its   
occupants, Scully turned her attention from the watch to the   
lights of the Bay Bridge above them, winding its way through   
their objective. She wished that they could have just driven onto   
the island, but that route had to be watched.

In what seemed like record speed, they navigated under the   
bridge, turning north towards the sea wall that skirted the island,   
and then west. They stayed low in the boat as they continued   
along, and Reggie suddenly turned them south along the far side   
of the island. Moments later, they were anchored to the sea wall   
that lead up to a small beach and then directly into the streets of   
Treasure Island. Hurriedly, they scrambled in the dark onto the   
rocks, stripping off the wet suits to reveal their street clothes.   
Once done, they passed the equipment up from the Zodiac to the   
beach, where they parceled out the weapons. Scully shrugged   
on her rig while Skinner grabbed the binoculars in the pack and   
scoped out the situation.

From the beach, Scully, Skinner and Kwan passed the   
binoculars back and forth as they looked up into the cluster of   
buildings before them. While most of this end of the island was   
empty, there was one building that has its lights on, and on   
closer inspection, Skinner and Scully noted the four large black   
sedans parked outside.

"That must be it," Skinner said, pitching his voice loud enough to   
be heard, but not too loud. "We'll get within a block, fire in some   
tear gas and then storm the building. Scully, Kwan and Reggie   
are with me going in the front, Carmine, you and Anthony's men   
cover the back."

"Carmine, make sure that they don't get off this island. Or so help   
me, I'll make you sorry we sprung you from your cage," Scully   
growled as she looked at him, her eyes burning like fire in the   
low light.

He replied by making a dismissing sound, and they started   
forwards, creeping along the deserted streets, staying close to   
the walls and in the shadows. A block away, Skinner turned to   
Reggie, who produced a tear gas launcher. Dropping a canister   
into the tube, he aimed for a partially open window and fired. As   
soon as it sailed through, they headed for the front door,   
weapons in hand.

Moments before they reached the door there was a loud   
explosion and grayish colored gas started to issue from the   
windows. The door swung open, and Kwan shot the man trying   
to escape the gas point blank, then grabbed him by the collar   
before he could fall, flinging him out of the doorway. Scully and   
Skinner pushed inside, eyes watering from the smoke while they   
fired at the shadows moving within that had just realized that   
they were being attacked.

Bullets began whizzing in their direction, and Scully and Skinner   
split up at the door, flinging themselves down and to the side as   
Kwan and Reggie leaned around the doorway and fired into the   
room.

Scully leapt to her feet and started shooting, moving towards the   
window and some fresh air. She heard rather than saw Skinner   
and Reggie firing their S&W autos into the left side of the room,   
making sure that anyone in the building firing at them was being   
fired upon.

Bullets zipped back and forth across the room, and Scully knew   
she had just dodged one or two by seconds. Things were ok for   
the moment, she realized, but things were going to change fast.

The gas was starting to dissipate.

At the back of the building's main room there seemed to be what   
looked like a passageway or corridor leading left and right. Scully   
heard scuffling and a clanking noise that sounded metallic   
coming from that direction. Coughing for a second, she tightened   
her grip on her guns and headed into the back of the building,   
firing at anything in her path. From behind, the sound of his 12   
gauge shotgun blasting away alerted her to Kwan's presence   
behind her, following her.

Skidding to a stop at the doorway into the corridor along the back   
of the room, she flattened to the wall, Kwan shadowing her on   
the opposite side, his shotgun in hand. For a moment, she   
flashed back on the thousands of times she'd been in this same   
pose, except the man on the other wall was Mulder. The thought   
sent another surge of adrenaline though her system, and she   
swung herself into the corridor, firing off half her clip, catching   
one of the MiB's fleeing from their advance in the back, sending   
him sprawling.

Kwan turned down the other corridor going left and fired his   
shotgun. He saw two men laying bleeding when he stopped, but   
no one else. He turned to check on Scully, and saw her taking   
care of herself. He paused and flattened against the wall while he   
pulled shells from the pocket of his black vest and shoved them   
into the shotgun as fast as his fingers would let him.

Scully started running down the hall, looking to both sides as she   
went, looking for doors or windows where either MiB's could be   
hiding, or Mulder could be being held.

Once door to her right appeared ajar, and she fired through it   
before kicking it in. As it flew open, she shot again, moving   
inside. She heard and felt the bullets fly past her, and she   
backed up, throwing herself backward to the floor, shooting at the   
same time. When she hit the wall of the corridor, she groaned at   
the impact at the same time as she heard the groan and thud of   
whomever had shot at her.

Scrambling up, she went back inside and checked to make sure   
that whomever was in there wasn't getting up again. When she   
saw the MiB's body sprawled face up on the floor, bullet wounds   
to his head and chest, she turned back to her task and moved   
hurriedly down the corridor. There was a door at the end of it,   
open to the street she guessed, and headed towards it faster   
than before.

Abruptly she came up short in front of a cell. An empty cell.

She paused briefly at the doorway of the brig-style cell, the iron   
bar door wide open, and she knew in her gut that Mulder had   
been in there, and that they'd spirited him out already, most likely   
they had hurried him out that open door she'd been headed for,   
probably thirty feet away at most. He was that close, she though   
excitedly.

"They're outside!" she yelled loudly as she ran down the hall.

Outside, Scully heard yelling and gunfire, and she continued   
down the corridor and out of the building. She saw Dominic and   
Stan shooting at three MiB's manhandling someone into a   
waiting sedan a block away. She looked in the low light and was   
sure she recognized the lanky figure that they were dragging.

"Mulder!!" she screamed as she headed towards the MiB's who   
were firing and dodging the bullets being fired by Anthony's men.   
She saw the man who was sandwiched between two of the MiB's   
start to jerk around wildly, trying to break from their grip.

"Scully!" Mulder called out, as one of the men holding him   
shoved his hand over Mulder's mouth, silencing him.

Adrenaline rushed through Scully's limbs as she ran faster,   
needing to stop that car. Dominic and Stan were taking shelter   
behind a few trees as they were fired upon, by Scully ignored   
them. She saw the last of the men get in the sedan and while the   
men in back kept firing out their windows, the driver started   
pulling away, gaining speed every second. She fired at them with   
one gun and then another in repetition as she ran, knowing her   
aim had to be shit as her arms were jarred with each step.

She kept running and shooting until car was out of sight.

Gone. He was gone again, she cried inwardly as she stood there   
on the street, her weapons still clutched tightly in her hands.   
She'd lost him again!

Part of her wanted to just break down, right there on the asphalt.   
Sink to her knees and cry out in anger and loss. Except that she   
didn't have time for that luxury. She'd seen him, heard him call   
her name. He had been so close, and she knew that she could   
get him back next time.

Slowly she holstered her weapons and turned back towards the   
block house. Walking sluggishly back to the building, she caught   
sight of Dominic and Stan turning the corner and heading into the   
building.

They'd been right there, less than 20 feet away from whatever   
exit the MiB's had come through with Mulder, and they'd let them   
slip past and get to the car. What the fuck had they been doing?

What they had been told to?

Had Carmine or Anthony told the gangsters not to interfere if they   
saw Mulder being taken out? Were they only looking for the First   
Elder, and to hell with the missing agent?

She started walking faster, her fury getting more out of hand the   
closer she got to the block house. By the time she came through   
the door, she had a Sig in her hand and was ready to murder   
Carmine, Anthony or all of them if her suspicions were true. She   
felt her feet crunch shell casings that blanketed the floor of the   
makeshift combat zone as she stormed into the room.

"You *fucking* asshole!" Scully screamed at Carmine as she   
stormed in the open door while he sauntered around the bullet   
ridden room, his Uzi nearly dangling from his hand. "Your men   
lost them! They were *that* close to saving Mulder and they let   
them get away! And why? Did you tell them to? You think I'm not   
capable of making good on my threat? I *will* put you down if I   
find out that you let them go!"

Instantly, Anthony's men are there, and holding their weapons in   
Scully's direction. Skinner, Kwan and Reggie were taken aback   
by the suddenness of both Scully's outburst and the gangster's   
response.

"You think I'm scared?" Scully asked Carmine, her voice   
dropping to a level Skinner had never heard before. "I've faced a   
lot worse than you and your kind, believe me. And I'll let you   
know a little secret. I'll put a bullet through your brain before they   
kill me, so I'd suggest you drop the fucking dramatic stand-off   
now!"

The tension in the air was thick while Carmine seemed to   
consider his options. With a slight gesture, his men stood down.

"Look honey, I got more to gain by helping you than not at this   
point. What you want will help me get what *I* want. Capeche?"   
he explained to her as he reached in his pocket for a cigar.

She stared at him intently as he lit the cigar. He seemed calm   
enough, but she watched the sweat start to bead at his temples.   
Good, she thought inwardly. He needed to be afraid of her. If he   
had lied to her just now, she'd find out and make sure he   
regretted it. For now though, she didn't have any proof that they'd   
let Mulder's captors escape. So, unless she wanted to finish it   
here and now, she knew it was time to back off.

"Fine," she fumed, her eyes closing as she turned away from the   
men around her. "But the fact is that they escaped and now we   
need to find Mulder again."

They had to find him again, she sighed silently. But he had been   
here, she'd heard his voice this time, had seen them spirit him   
away in one of the sedans. While she had missed the tires on the   
sedan, she was sure that she'd cracked the rear glass as the car   
sped away. She tried to console herself that they had gotten   
closer this time. But it was still frustrating and painful to the point   
of collapsing.

The only bright point she could find in it all was the fact that   
Mulder had screamed her name after she'd called out to him.   
He'd heard her, knew she was coming for him. With all her heart   
she hoped that the knowledge that she was coming for him   
would help him hold on until she found him.

Scully opened her eyes and turned to see everyone watching   
her, waiting to see what she was going to do next. With a deep   
breath, she straightened her spine and reconstructed her   
invulnerable, tough exterior. She waded back into the discussion   
that seemed to have continued without her as to their next move.

"Now what?" Scully asked Skinner, her anger and adrenaline   
faded under the fear and failure of their blown rescue attempt. He   
could see, just beneath the surface how the constant near-  
misses were affecting her. If there had been no one else in the   
room, he was almost sure that she would have just crumpled to   
the ground and started crying. But she couldn't do that in front of   
everyone. She had to keep control of the situation, even if it   
meant denying how she felt.

"We stop following them, and take this to them. By finding the   
First Elder," Skinner explained simply. "I'll make a call and see if   
we can find out where he is. But at this point, I don't think we'll be   
able to do anything till morning."

At that, Scully only nodded her understanding. Another day. She   
could do that.

\- X -

300 California St.  
Tenth floor  
San Francisco, CA

 

The Well Manicured Man strode into the sun drenched office   
suite and looked around. There were several of the ranking chair   
holders of the Consortium in attendance, including the man who   
had gotten them in such trouble in the first place, the First Elder.

"Mulder's associates have continued to look for him since his   
disappearance. In their efforts to find him, a ghost from the past   
has been retrieved, putting us all in jeopardy if he goes public   
with what he knows. This is part of the reason we have never   
taken direct action against Mulder. Too many people are   
involved in his well being," the Well Manicured Man informed the   
men gathered there, as he took his seat at the far end of the   
table.

At the opposite end, the First Elder glared at his silver haired   
predecessor. He'd had Mulder snatched as part of his power play   
within the council. Now, everything was being undermined, and   
he was certain that his predecessor was behind it. Yet he had no   
proof, and he was also vulnerable, thanks to Carmine DiMerra's   
escape.

"Mulder is a threat to this group and our work. I have taken steps   
to eliminate those who are searching for him, and thus allow us   
to keep Agent Mulder under our control until we decide what to   
do with him. Permanently," the First Elder explained, hoping that   
the board would be satisfied with his management of the   
situation.

"I think you take Mulder's acquaintances too lightly. Even now,   
your assassin has been recruited by Agent Scully to help her   
locate her missing partner."

"I've read Agent Scully's files. She's not a threat," the First Elder   
said in his dull constant monotone.

The table was silent. While most of the council had not dealt   
directly with Mulder or Scully, reports of their cases as well as   
their capabilities were common place within the organization.

At the First Elder's words, the Well Manicured Man tossed a   
stack of color photos from both the San Quentin cell block and   
the warehouse onto the table. The glossy pictures of bloody,   
shot-up bodies scattered across the finely-polished conference   
table for everyone to see.

"You've obviously underestimated her," the Well Manicured Man   
stated, his thin lips almost curling into a smile. "And now we may   
*all* have to suffer because of your error in judgment."

\- X -

301 California St.  
San Francisco, CA

 

Scully rested her linen clad arm against the high wall of the roof   
of the building as she peered through the scope.

She was glad now that she had brought her black suit with her on   
this trip. It had made it easier when she'd flashed her badge for a   
fraction of a second and bluffed her way through the lobby and   
onto the roof. Of course, if the security guard had known what   
she had in the large briefcase, he would have been more   
attentive to her credentials.

As it was, she now stood, leaning over the high powered rifle,   
studying the street and the doorway to the building she knew the   
First Elder was meeting his associates in.

On the street below, directly across from her, Kwan was waiting   
for them to walk through the doors and for Scully to drop the first   
of the expected armed retainer/bodyguards. Since he and   
Skinner knew what the First Elder looked like, and she was the   
only one of the group that had met the Well Manicured Man, she   
had been the best choice to take up the sniper position. They   
would radio in when they saw the First Elder and give her a   
description, so she could avoid him, and she would know who   
the Well Manicured Man was by sight, and could avoid shooting   
him as well. What she needed to do was bring down the   
bodyguards and give Kwan and Skinner the chance to grab the   
First Elder.

Of course the fact that she had nearly perfect scores with rifle   
training when she'd gone through the academy and received a   
marksmanship note in her files had also weighed in the decision   
to perch her 20 stories above the ground.

Skinner was sitting in their 'borrowed' car, less than a block   
away, waiting for it to go down. He had an earpiece like Kwan   
and Scully that was attached to a radio set up on the same   
frequency they were all on. Once Kwan had identified their   
objective, Scully would take out the defenders, Skinner would   
drive up so Kwan could shove the fat fuck into the back seat, and   
then they would have their leverage to get Mulder back.

It all rested on her skill and timing. And she wasn't going to   
screw up what probably was her last shot at getting Mulder back.

Last shot, she thought humorously, as she minutely shifted the   
rifle sight. Oh, that was bad. Jesus, she was as bad as Mulder   
was. At that she felt a cold rush through her limbs as the   
frustration and longing shot through her heart and soul. God, she   
missed him. She *had* to get him back.

Angry at letting herself get distracted, even for a second as she   
thought about Mulder, she chastised herself. She had to   
concentrate on the pavement in front of the building across the   
street, and be ready for Kwan's call. All she had to do was wait.

And wait.

They waited late into morning, and when the streets started to   
get busy with the lunch crowd, she saw movement through the   
scope coming out of the building. At the same second, she heard   
Kwan's voice break onto the radio.

"Just coming through the door, the man with the black hair in the   
black pinstripe suit that looks like he ate too much Dim Sum,"   
Kwan said quietly into the mouthpiece that was almost hidden   
against his face.

She looked through the scope, saw the man Kwan had identified,   
counted six men, and the Well Manicured Man hanging towards   
the rear. Four of the six seemed to be guards or foot soldiers.   
And they would be the first to go.

Scully fired four quick, precise shots which rang out in the busy   
area, resulting in people screaming and running for cover. She   
saw Kwan rush past the running, falling bodies and grab the First   
Elder with one hand, a semi-automatic pistol shoved in the fat   
man's stomach. Around him, his men lay dead, bleeding onto the   
pavement.

Dragging the First Elder with him, Kwan got the man to the curb   
where Skinner and the car had arrived. Scully watched as Kwan   
swiftly shoved the fat bastard into the car and they sped away.

Hurriedly, Scully broke down the rifle, threw it in the briefcase,   
and headed to the stairs. She got off on the second to the top   
floor, and caught an elevator to the underground parking lot.   
When the elevator doors opened, she quickly looked around for   
any security that she would have to flash her badge to, but found   
it empty.

Running up the ramp to the street from the underground parking   
area, she arrived on the sidewalk just as Skinner was pulling up.   
She threw the briefcase in the passenger door, and jumped in.   
As soon as the door closed behind her, Skinner was driving off,   
away from the chaos behind them.

\- X -

Laurel Motor Inn, Room 4  
Presidio Ave. & California St.  
San Francisco, CA

 

Scully stood in front of the man called the First Elder and   
frowned. Why the hell would the rest of the Consortium want this   
guy back?

He writhed in the ropes against the sturdy desk chair. When   
they'd first sat him down, she'd been afraid it would fall apart   
under his weight, but it had held. Kwan had blindfolded him as   
soon as he'd shoved him in the car, and she'd decided to keep it   
that way, at least when she was in the room with him. She   
glanced over to where Skinner stood by the window, and then to   
the door, where Kwan was posted. Anthony and Carmine were   
on their way. She had to get this fat fuck to give her the   
information she wanted or make the deal before they got here.

Because Carmine, she reminded herself inwardly as she   
returned her attention to the man before her, had other plans for   
the man before her. She figured that he'd want her to take off the   
blindfold so the First Elder could see who was blowing his brains   
out as Carmine fired the gun that killed him.

Sigh. She didn't like the idea of having to convince them that   
their vendetta against this man would have to wait until she had   
Mulder back. In the short time she'd been dealing with Anthony   
and his father, they hadn't shown too much in the give-and-take   
department. Still, if she had to shoot them to keep the First Elder   
alive until she got Mulder back, she wouldn't hesitate a minute.

"Tell me where Mulder is," she asked, her voice steely in its   
determination.

"Is that you Agent Scully?" the First Elder asked around his   
blindfold. "I'm surprised. I wouldn't have thought you capable of   
taking up with gangsters and assassins. Perhaps we chose to   
take the wrong person."

The sound of Scully's palm cracking against the First Elder's   
face startled Skinner from where he was checking out the   
window for Carmine and his son. At the door, Kwan looked   
shocked at the violence Scully had just displayed. The First Elder   
himself seemed slack-jawed as well, until he coughed and then   
spat out some pinkish saliva.

"Don't fuck with me," Scully nearly snarled. "I know he was alive   
last night, and I doubt after moving him all these times without   
killing him, you'd all of a sudden decide to kill him now."

He grimaced, and she knew she'd called his bluff. If they'd   
wanted Mulder dead, they would have just shot him on the street,   
like they'd done with her. Of course, they had fucked up, and   
hadn't killed her. And in doing so, they'd screwed themselves.

"Here's the deal. You have two choices. One, you take me where   
you're holding Mulder, and after we're away safe, I let you go.   
Two, you give me a number for your Consortium friends, and I'll   
tell them I'll make a trade - you for Mulder. What's it going to be?"

The First Elder grumbled. His men should have taken care of her   
in D.C., he thought. Then there was that backstabbing slope who   
had broken his agreement to kill Scully and now was helping her.   
He'd read Agent Scully's files and thought he knew her; she was   
the skeptic scientist, a by-the-book agent, a medical doctor who   
was trained to heal. But this woman before him wasn't that   
person. She was ruthless and determined.

They should have tried to recruit her years ago.

"Fine. Call them and tell them to set up a trade. Me for Mulder,"   
he said with difficulty. There was one last shot he could salvage   
this, if his men made Swiss cheese out of the bitch and her   
associates at the exchange, he could keep Mulder and retain his   
position in the Consortium. the more he thought on it, the more   
he found himself warming to the idea.

"Give me the number, and we'll call and schedule a time to make   
the exchange. If you're lucky, you'll be back with the other rats in   
time for dinner," she spat.

It wasn't more than a few seconds before he started rattling off   
the number.

\- X -

Near Spreckles Lake  
Golden Gate Park  
San Francisco, CA  
11pm

 

The fact of the matter was that Scully didn't trust the First Elder   
farther than she could throw him, and after seeing how large he   
was, she doubted she could even lift his toes off the ground. But   
the deal was a necessity. It was the only way they would hand   
over Mulder, and she wasn't about to argue over semantics with   
them when they'd chosen this place and time for the trade.

Besides, she still had a few aces up her sleeve. Including Kwan.

It seemed sometimes that he reminded her of Mulder, and then   
at other times, he was exactly the opposite. If the idea of liking   
him hadn't been forced because of the circumstances, she didn't   
think they would have had much in common. Or perhaps too   
much.

Except again, it didn't matter. Her one goal was to get Mulder   
back.

Over the course of the last week and a half, she'd been forced to   
think a lot about her partner and her relationship with him. How   
the 'thing' they had was more than just work related. She was   
willing to lose her job in order to rescue him, and had uncovered   
a dark side of herself that seemed to thrive in this kind of   
situation.

She'd found *it* didn't scare her anymore.

Nothing seemed to scare her. Except for the idea of never seeing   
Mulder again. Of having to live the rest of her life with the ache in   
her chest that had grown exponentially since his capture, and her   
realization of how her feelings for him has grown.

Looking across the shadowed and foggy expanse of the park,   
Scully squinted, searching for a glimpse of headlights. It was   
almost 11:05pm and the other party should have arrived by now.

There was a sudden flash of light from probably fifty feet out, in   
dense shrubs or small trees. The light landed on where she   
stood, just barely in view, her black trenchcoat moving in the   
slight breeze.

Scully glanced next to her where Kwan stood. He'd argued with   
her the whole way from the hotel to the park, insisting that he   
stay by her side. He'd even said he felt guilty enough about his   
role in the plot to kill her, and since he'd found out how badly she   
wanted her partner back, understood what she'd done in pursuit   
of him, he couldn't let her out of his sight and out of his   
protection.

It was like arguing with Mulder, she'd thought, and when she'd   
continued to deny him, he'd only become more pleading, and   
turned to Skinner for support. Once she'd been ganged up on,   
she reluctantly accepted the situation. The most important thing,   
she reminded herself over and over again as they had driven   
here and waited, was getting Mulder back. If she had to have a   
babysitter with her at all times, she'd put up with it. For the   
moment.

Anthony flashed the lights of their car from behind her. For a   
minute or two, the park was almost pitch black. Then several   
sets of car headlights all turned on, aimed their way. Quickly,   
Anthony and Reggie flipped on theirs, trying to even out the   
odds.

Through the near-blinding white beams, a man started to head   
towards them, his trenchcoat making waves in the light as he   
moved. Scully realized that the time had come, and stepped out   
into the open, walking to meet the Consortium goon in the middle   
of the field. When they were a few feet from each other, Scully   
stopped, and watched the man do the same. Warily, she studied   
him, trying to tell if she'd seen him before, if he'd been one of the   
men on Treasure Island, or even in the sedan in D.C.

"Agent Scully," remarked the white man in his thirties, his gray   
trenchcoat and black suit looking very official.

She felt him look her up and down, taking in the black ensemble   
she had on - black turtleneck, black jeans and boots all under her   
trenchcoat. Of course, that trenchcoat covered her real assets.   
The rig and her guns.

"We're here to make the trade, per your request. If we could see   
your captive?" the MiB asked politely, except the nicety never   
reached his eyes, and he wore a half snarl on his face.

Scully nodded, and raised her hand to signal to the men in the   
car with the First Elder that it was time. At her signal, Skinner,   
Dominic and Stan pulled the First Elder from the car parked   
behind the stand of trees. They walked him forward just enough   
so that they could be seen.

"Now, where's Agent Mulder?" she asked in a very aggravated   
way, making the man before her jerk for a moment.

She watched carefully as the MiB before her turned slightly, and   
Scully heard car doors pop open, and then watched in   
anticipation as two armed men shoved and almost dragged the   
form of her partner forward. He drew his head up heavily and   
saw her there as they moved forward, and then they stopped ten   
feet from where she stood.

"Scully!" Mulder called out, and received a reprimand in the form   
of the barrel of one of the guard's guns smacking him across the   
face.

Enraged, Scully felt her hands drift to her waist, pushing the   
sides of the trenchcoat aside as they placed themselves on her   
hips. She stared at the man before her with a menacing look.

"If they do that again, it will be the *last* thing they do. Tell them   
to bring him here, and let's get on with this," she said in a deadly   
whisper.

"We want the First Elder first," he countered.

She didn't like it, but she shrugged. There wasn't much more she   
could bargain with at the moment and keep Mulder alive. Scully   
waved Stan and Dominic forward with the First Elder, moving   
him closer to where she and the negotiator stood. When he'd   
gotten as far as their position, they let him go on his own and she   
looked back at the MiB before her expectantly.

The two men guarding Mulder hauled him up and started moving   
with him towards her. Scully looked away for half a second to   
lock eyes with Kwan. He nodded at her, and she returned her   
gaze to Mulder, his eyes locked now on hers so she couldn't look   
away.

Mulder fell to the ground as the men shoved him forward. Scully   
split her attention to the First Elder walking past her and the man   
who'd pushed Mulder.

Suddenly, the First Elder ran towards the parked cars,   
screaming, "Kill them *all*!"

The two men standing over Mulder's semi-prone form reached   
for their guns, and before Scully could reach hers, she heard   
Kwan's 12 gauge fire and the men were falling, screaming in   
pain, blood pouring from gunshot wounds. Behind her, she could   
hear Skinner, Carmine and Kwan all yelling. To her left, she saw   
Dominic and Stan chase after the First Elder, shooting at the   
MiB's coming to his aid, who shot back.

Lunging forward, Scully grabbed the collar of the man who'd   
been designated as the negotiator, and pulled her Sig at the   
same time. It was at his head in a second.

"I guess it's time that you learned that we all can't have   
everything we want," she remarked coldly, and pulled the trigger.

She felt the man go limp in her grasp as blood sprayed from the   
wound. Ignoring the wet liquid that had splattered her face and   
upper limbs, she reached down, wrapped her arm around   
Mulder's chest from behind and forcibly dragged him away from   
the center of the fire zone, calling for cover from anyone who   
could hear her.

Suddenly Kwan was there, helping her haul the much larger and   
heavier Mulder towards some shelter. In moments Scully and   
Kwan had Mulder behind a stand of trees, and once he was sure   
she was able to take over, he moved into a defensive position,   
his 12 gauge making a thunderous sound.

"Hey Scully," said Mulder sleepily as she shoved him down   
behind the downed tree. He stared at her intently, trying to focus   
through the drugs. "So, what did I get myself into this time?"

For a split second, she was torn between checking over her limp   
partner and throwing herself back into the battle. Instead, Kwan,   
and then Skinner had moved in front of her position.

"We will protect you Dana, while you look after Mulder," said   
Kwan as he and Skinner continued to make sure that nothing got   
past them. She nodded in grateful understanding and let them do   
what they felt they had to.

Quickly, she looked him over for injuries, and found more than   
enough cuts and abrasions, but no gaping bullet wounds.   
Shoving up his sleeves revealed bruises at the crook of his arm   
that suggested that they'd probably drugged him intravenously   
more than once, and probably just before the trade had been set   
up, judging from the fresh bruising there.

Once she'd finished her once over, she realized that Mulder had   
been staring at her the whole time, taking in her appearance and   
her battle-weary countenance.

"Hey there partner," she said in quiet tones, almost drowned out   
by the continuing gun fire.

"Hey yourself," he replied. "Thanks for coming to get me."

She smiled, unable to help herself. Then she heard more   
shouting behind her and turned to see that Skinner and Kwan   
had vanished. Looking further across the field, she found that   
they'd had to wade further away from her position, using some   
trees and rocks for cover as the Consortium continued their   
attack from another direction. Realizing that the situation was still   
bad, she knew that she couldn't just sit there, hoping that   
everyone else could deal with it. Finally, after agonizing seconds,   
she reached back behind her, sweeping away the trenchcoat,   
and pulled the spare gun from her spine and pressed it into   
Mulder's hands.

"Nice outfit," he said suddenly as he got his first real good look at   
her, and she gave him her patented Scully-look of annoyance. It   
was wonderful to hear his voice, his humor again, but this wasn't   
the time.

Seeing the black funky poaching clothes clearly for the first time,   
Mulder had been surprised. But then shock had set in as he saw   
both the blood on her face and clothes and the rig strapped to   
her body. Shit, he thought. If her shooting their enemies while   
she'd dragged him over here wasn't impressive enough, he now   
realized that she was packing enough weapons to make him look   
like a lightweight.

The blood dotting her skin was something that he couldn't   
process at the moment, and he shut his eyes as a wave of   
dizziness struck him. She squeezed his hands tightly and his   
eyes flew open.

"Take this, and shoot anyone in a black suit who comes near   
you. I'll be back as quick as I can," she explained roughly, her   
hand closing the gun in his, and lingering there ever so slightly.

Once he nodded, she was up, pulling her Sig and its companion   
from the confines of her jacket and ran back into the fight.

Scully made her way to where Kwan and Skinner were pined   
down and fired a few rounds into the blinding lights. She heard   
car engines and started to panic. Were they getting the First   
Elder out of there and leaving the foot soldiers behind to do the   
dirty work? And if the man *did* escape, would there be   
retribution later?

"Damn it," she cursed as she leaned around the tree she was   
using for cover and fired at the lights. She heard glass break and   
it got a little darker. "Where's Carmine?"

"They went after the First Elder," Skinner replied, ducking his   
head in closer as pieces of bark went flying when a bullet struck   
the tree he was standing behind.

Scully scanned the area and saw Dominic lying face down on the   
ground, obviously wounded badly or dead. Looking farther away   
in that direction, she saw Carmine and Anthony moving as fast   
as the old man could go. They were following Stan and Vinnie Jr.   
as they chased and shot at the First Elder, who's men were   
trying to protect them the best they could. they were getting   
closer to the cars, and she knew that they were loosing their   
chance to kill the fat bastard before he could escape.

And after what that man had had done to Mulder, she wasn't   
about to let that happen.

Before either Kwan or Skinner could react, she had launched   
herself out from her cover and was racing towards the First   
Elder's vehicle. If she could take out the driver before he got to   
the car, Anthony and Carmine had a chance. They deserved the   
chance to get their revenge. If she didn't have some kind of   
understanding of the honor of the thing, she would have headed   
straight for the fat fuck herself and put him out of his misery.

Behind her, she heard Kwan call her name, and the sound of his   
12 gauge. As usual since he'd joined their group, he was   
watching her back. A little part of her knew why, that the Asian   
assassin had a crush on her. Another part of her knew that it was   
deeper than that, and without knowing the details, Kwan had also   
uncovered a side of himself, and, like Dana, *it* no longer scared   
him.

Violently putting that thought out of her mind, she rushed at the   
car, and when she could clearly see the driver, she shot at him   
through the windshield. The third bullet went through the hole   
she'd created in the windshield and then through the man's neck.   
He slumped in the driver's seat.

There was a roar of car engines around them, and Scully looked   
to see that the rest of the MiB's were pulling out. At the same   
time, she saw Stan tackle the First Elder, sending the two men   
sprawling. Vinnie Jr. helped Stan up and they yanked the fat man   
to his knees.

Carmine and Anthony caught up with his men, slowly walking   
now to his hated enemy's side. The First Elder wildly looked   
around and saw that the rest of his troops had scattered, repelled   
by the hail of bullets that had continued to rain on them, even as   
he'd run for his life. Scully and Skinner watched dispassionately   
as Carmine took an offered .45 automatic from Anthony and   
pointed it at the man's head.

"Please *don't* Carmine!" the First Elder begged, his hands   
clenched in front of him.

"I always knew you'd go out squealing like a pig, Joe," Carmine   
said as he brought down the .45 and the huge dark tunnel of the   
barrel all that the First Elder could see. "At least, in that, you did   
not disappoint."

Carmine pulled the trigger, and the First Elder slumped to the   
ground. Anthony muttered something in Italian, and pumped a   
full clip into what was left of the fat man's face. The other two   
wiseguys followed suit, emptying their pistols into the dead man,   
like mourners tossing dirt in an open grave.

Scully watched the grim display. Then she heard a distant voice   
calling from a thousand miles away. It was Mulder calling her   
name. She turned to see Mulder being helped by Reggie, who   
must have convinced Mulder not to shoot him. She smiled at the   
thought, and memories of Mulder's ever-persuasive wit flooded   
her. She couldn't imagine what she would have done if they   
hadn't found him. . .

Mulder wobbled up on shaky legs and took a good look at Scully,   
and then he scanned the scene. His eyebrows shot up and his   
eyes darkened in horror, then shock as they moved on. His eyes   
returned to hers, and their silent communication kicked in. She   
read the warning, the concern in his eyes and turned to see   
Carmine start to move towards Skinner, who was patiently   
standing there, as if waiting for the old man to strike him down.

In the resulting silence, Scully shifted her Sig in her hand,   
tightening her grasp on the grip. It was a subtle shift, but it was   
one neither Carmine, Anthony or his men missed, and the   
tension ratcheted up a notch.

"Scully," Skinner warned, watching Carmine as he tensed. "I   
think Carmine and I can work our problems out on our own."

"Right," Carmine replied as he swung the barrel of the .45 into   
his other hand, holding the weapon close to him.

She shook her head and walked between her boss and the mob   
leader. Mulder started towards her, but Kwan held him back,   
trusting in the warrior he'd fought beside three times now to take   
care of herself.

"You had your revenge. The First Elder is dead. He played *all*   
of you. Skinner made sure you got out, and that you got your   
revenge. Shouldn't that count for something in your world of   
honor and duty?" she pointedly informed him.

Everyone watched as there seemed to be some kind of internal   
debate going on in the old man. Finally, he turned the gun over in   
his hands and handed it back to Anthony.

"Yeah it does. You've got a pass Walt. But I don't ever want to   
see you again. You are dead to me."

With that, he turned and walked back to the cars. Anthony   
followed, while Stan and Vinnie Jr. picked up Dominic's body and   
carried it with them. They loaded up into the car they'd come in   
and drove off into the night, leaving the rest of the group standing   
there, still in shock. Scully turned to look first at her boss, and   
then at Mulder.

"It's over," she said quietly.

Yet part of her knew that some things were far from resolved.

\- X -

Flight 3020  
American Airlines  
En Route to Washington D.C.

 

Mulder sat on the plane, his eyes fixed on the clouds outside his   
window seat. They'd been in the air less than 20 minutes and he   
was already restless. Beside him, Scully sat next to him in the   
center seat, while Skinner, who'd used his leverage as their boss   
had the aisle. He groaned inwardly as he watched his boss   
stretch his legs into the walkway.

Of course, the accommodations on the plane were better than   
where he'd been over the last week, not counting the emergency   
room that Scully had insisted on him visiting after everything had   
cooled down in San Francisco before they got a flight back to   
D.C. For the first time in his life, he'd actually been at ease in an   
ER. Of course, how he'd been living the last week or so had   
made the sanitized white, air conditioned ER seem heavenly.

"So, have I thanked you today for rescuing my ass from the   
Consortium, Scully?" he asked humorously, leaning over to   
interrupt her reading of what seemed to be the most fascinating   
two month old magazine article.

Slowly she let it the magazine slide to her lap, and she turned to   
face him.

"Considering that it all happened at less than six hours ago, and   
you thanked me there, while we were at the hospital, and again   
before we got on the plane, I think so."

Mulder stared at her, then focused his attention on his boss, who   
seemed to be doing his best to ignore the conversation going on   
right next to him. Then from out of the blue, Skinner reached up   
and punched the attendant call button. A few minutes later, one   
of the airline attendants showed up, and Skinner had a quiet   
discussion with her. As she left, Skinner turned to his agents and   
gave them a once-over before he spoke.

"I checked with the airline and they said that since there's room   
on the flight that I could move seats. I'm going to check on Kwan,   
see how he's doing. If I don't come back, I'll see you when we   
land," he explained quickly, then got up and left them alone.

Both of them watched Skinner's retreating form as he headed to   
the back of the cabin. Now, in the mostly empty plane, they had a   
small area around them to themselves.

"He did that on purpose," Scully quickly said, folding her   
magazine open as she tried to retreat into the articles within.

"Yeah. But I think he did it out of the kindness of his heart, Scully.   
That and I don't think he wanted to intrude," Mulder began as he   
wiggled his way past Scully's legs and sat down in the seat on   
the aisle, stretching out his legs. He almost sighed at the relief of   
the movement. But instead he turned to scrutinize his partner.

She continued to re-read the same page for another five minutes   
before she sighed loudly and gave up, shoving the magazine in   
the pouch in the seat in front of her. Turning her head, she found   
Mulder still staring at her, almost as if he was drinking in the sight   
of her.

"What?" she asked suddenly, startling him out of whatever trance   
he'd been in.

"I just," he started, then faltered. "I can't help thinking about how   
relieved I was to see you tonight. I mean, when I first woke up in   
that warehouse, all I could remember was them shooting you,   
and I was terrified that they'd killed you. I thought I'd never see   
you again. And then, after they moved me, I knew that it had to   
be you looking for me. I spent those last two days holding onto   
that thought. That you were coming to find me."

Scully sat there in silence. He had no idea just how much she'd   
tried to hold onto the hope that Mulder would have faith in her.   
That he'd trust her to save him. And that she'd been scared out   
of her mind that she'd fail.

"I know. I was afraid that I'd never find you. Or that when I   
did. . . " she said, and she found her emotions starting to get   
the better of her as she almost choked on the last word.

"Hey," he roughly said, "I'm here and I'm ok. A little banged up,   
but ok."

She couldn't help but smile at that.

"Hell Mulder, when *don't* you get banged up?" she countered.

He had to shrug at that. It was too close to the truth to deny it.   
But considering the situation, he wasn't quite ready to let Scully   
have the last word.

"Sure Scully, rub it in why don't you," he whined in his sarcastic   
tone. "Next time, I'll let you shoot the guys before they drag me   
into the car, ok?"

"Sounds like a plan to me Mulder," she remarked, feeling better.   
"Oh, by the way, I have something that belongs to you."

At that she reached under her cuff and unbuckled Mulder's watch   
from its place on her wrist. She held it out to him, and he took it   
and her hand in his grasp for a second, then pulled the plastic   
watch from her grasp.

"Thanks."

He settled it back on his wrist and gave her a smile. Everything   
was where it was supposed to be. They settled back into their   
seats, Scully finding herself leaning into Mulder's side as they   
relaxed into their comfortable roles of partners and friends again,   
on their way home to their lives in D.C.

And for now, that was enough.

\- X -

Scully's apartment  
3170 W. 53 Rd.  
Annapolis, VA  
1 week later

 

Over the last week, Scully had found herself having to relearn   
how to conform to civilization, which was proving more difficult   
than she'd expected it to be.

First had been the meeting with the OPR panel in regards to her   
conduct in the recovery of Agent Mulder, as well as A.D.   
Skinner's involvement in the matter. They questioned her at   
length about her association with the DiMerra crime family in   
New Jersey. What had surprised her was the lack of questioning   
on the subject of the dead bodies that had ended up littering   
several locations across the San Francisco Bay Area. The only   
thing she could figure was that either Carmine and Anthony or   
the factions of the Consortium that had helped or hindered her   
had "cleaned up" after them.

The final nail in her coffin, she was sure would be her week long   
absence from the Bureau without requesting the time off or   
calling in. The fact that Skinner was her boss, and he'd been with   
her the whole time, so she didn't need to let him know where she   
was almost came out of her mouth. She barely stopped herself,   
reminding herself that Skinner didn't need her to help get him in   
trouble.

But they never mentioned the missed work hours. Only later,   
when she'd had the time to speak with her boss did she find out   
that he'd had his assistant draw up the proper forms before they   
left and signed them. She'd allowed her self the impulse of   
kissing him on the cheek in gratitude.

As Scully had sat there, listening to the board members recite   
proper conduct policy and procedures, heard them pronounce   
her one week suspension without pay and found herself   
imagining pulling out her pistol and emptying a clip into the lot of   
them. And it was an almost overwhelming temptation that she   
had gripped her hands tightly in her lap to keep them from itching   
at the thought.

If that hadn't been proof that she'd come back with less self   
control, more willing to act on impulse, she'd found herself   
swearing like a sailor when she'd been talking with her mother   
over lunch. Not that the language was of any shock to Maggie   
Scully, Navy wife and all, but Dana considered the lack of mental   
censoring of the colorful terms in her vocabulary meant that she   
really had allowed herself to change radically, if not even   
fundamentally.

Then there was the Kwan issue. Now, looking back at the past   
ten days, she wondered again what the hell she'd been on at the   
time to have *trusted* the assassin with not just her life, but   
Mulder's as well.

Yet he'd been there for her. Had helped her rescue Mulder, put   
himself between her and harms way, provided her with a   
sounding board and support until the very end. It still surprised   
her when she knew that he could have simply just walked away   
from everything.

Instead he had followed her back to D.C., stopped in more than a   
few times to talk, see how things were. He had spent a lot of the   
time discussing family, his and hers. It seemed that he had family   
in Chicago that had immigrated to the US years ago and he   
thought that maybe it would be good to go there and start over.   
Leave everything else behind, since he really didn't have   
anything left in Hong Kong for him. She'd supported that idea.   
After everything he'd been through, had done for her, Kwan   
deserved whatever happiness he could find.

When the discussion turned to her, she'd found herself   
answering questions about Mulder more often than her mother or   
brothers. Sometimes she felt like he was almost confirming one   
more time that her relationship with Mulder was something   
sacred, serious.

She had to admit to an initial attraction to the handsome Asian,   
and was sure she'd felt his eyes on her longer than was polite   
more than once. But he'd never said a word, and she knew it was   
because he knew that she was already involved.

With Mulder.

Since Mulder had been kidnapped, she had begun to realize that   
he had never been out of her mind for more than a minute. While   
he was gone, everything had centered on him. Getting him back.   
Finding him alive and ok. Getting the First Elder to trade for him.   
Threatening gunmen to find out his whereabouts. Worrying,   
fearing, crying, missing, loving this man who was out of reach.

But once she had him in her arms, safe and real, she'd found   
that the frequency of thinking of him hadn't changed. Only her   
thoughts about him had. Thoughts of touching, kissing, holding,   
making love to him seeped through her brain without her   
consciously calling on the images. At times, she found an   
overwhelming need just to get on the phone and talk to him,   
invite him or herself over to see him.

Most of all, she'd found that the walls around her emotions were   
still down. Whether it was a conscious decision or not, she   
wasn't sure. But her emotions hadn't been closed back up, like   
she'd worried they might. At the same time, she was scared by   
the vulnerability she felt. Of the unspoken truth about how she   
felt, the one that she was sure Mulder had to have seen in her   
eyes by now.

Yet Mulder had still not done anything in the week since he'd   
been rescued that convinced her that he knew things had   
changed. Had done nothing that he hadn't done before the   
abduction. For all intents and purposes, they were exactly the   
way they had always been. Partners and friends. Nothing more.

She found herself fearing that in doing whatever it took to get   
back what she wanted so desperately, she'd lost her chance to   
have him. That he was troubled by what he'd seen in her, what   
she'd become, and had chosen to avoid their feelings, and   
decided to simply stay her partner.

And the notion of that scenario scared her more than she could   
say.

\- X -

J. Edgar Hoover building  
FBI Headquarters  
Washington D.C.  
2 weeks later

 

Mulder sat at his desk, enjoying the feeling of being back. Of   
course, the comfortable chairs helped to. He almost smiled, but   
stopped when he felt the slight ache at the side of his mouth at   
the movement.

He might be back, but the toll of his ordeal was still fading. The   
bruises and cuts that had been all over his body were either   
totally healed or almost gone by now.

Not all the damage was on the outside, he reminded himself   
sharply as he looked across the desk to where Scully was absent   
mindedly pushing papers around on her desk. She'd been doing   
that for the last 2 hours.

He'd learned from Skinner and Kwan exactly what Scully had   
done to get him back, and he could even read between the lines   
when the two of them had talked about it as well. Once a person   
went through something that fundamentally changed them or   
challenged their morals to the degree that Scully had been   
through, he knew it was hard to deal with, let alone accept that   
change as a part of them.

Especially someone like Scully.

He shivered inwardly as he recalled specifically what Skinner   
had told him of her ruthless behavior in her search for him. The   
intentional shooting of an unarmed, vulnerable prisoner, her   
language, her single minded pursuit of Mulder's return, no matter   
what scum she had to associate with, her double fisted shooting   
and fiery vengeance.

Of course, he'd seen some of it himself. At the park in San   
Francisco when the trade had gone south and exploded into   
insanity and gunfire. He'd had her snatch him up from the ground   
and haul him to safety, then watched her wade back into the fray,   
guns blazing like an actor in a John Woo flick, blowing away the   
Consortium goons who had been holding him.

But more importantly, in the days following his rescue, he and   
Scully had begun to touch on the feelings that they seemed to   
share. Both good and bad. But most significant were the ones   
that he'd always been afraid of acknowledging; the ones he didn't   
think that she shared. Except that now he knew differently.   
Between the flight back from San Francisco, and the time they'd   
had to talk because she'd been suspended and his forced sick   
leave, they'd ended up spending a lot of time together. They'd   
talked more than they had in the last year, saying a lot of the   
things that they'd neglected to say before the whole thing had   
happened.

And sometimes letting their emotions get the better of them.

Yet during all that time, they were never truly alone. While   
Skinner's Mafia 'friends' had left directly from San Francisco   
back to New Jersey, Skinner had still been in the picture; on the   
flight back, getting them squared away with the Bureau, and   
making a point to see both of them on a formal and informal   
basis.

But probably the most difficult for Mulder to deal with was Kwan.

Over the last week and a half, the man whom he'd learned had   
been sent to assassinate his partner had nearly been at her beck   
and call. Like a forlorn, lost puppy. He could see the fondness   
that the other man had for Scully. Not only was it written on his   
face whenever he talked to her, but he'd found out the truth about   
Kwan's feelings for his partner almost word for word from the   
man.

Thinking back, Mulder recalled the conversation he'd had with   
Kwan less than two days ago.

He'd shown up at Scully's apartment, and Mulder had let him in.   
Scully had left hours earlier to go to a meeting at the Bureau   
before she returned from her suspension and she'd asked   
Mulder to stay and wait for a package from her brother. So when   
Kwan had shown up, looking for Scully, Mulder had suggested   
he come in and wait for her to get back, and offered him a beer.

Kwan had almost declined and left, but Mulder had verbally and   
maybe even physically persuaded the man to stay. Besides,   
Mulder had yet to talk privately with the man that Skinner had   
said had been crucial in securing his release. And had made   
himself indispensable with Scully. His gut reaction to that had   
been almost murderous. That Kwan was trying something with   
Scully. . . So he wanted the chance to straighten things out with   
him, and if need be, kick the guy's teeth in.

After finishing off a six pack in under two hours, the men had   
come to a slightly inebriated understanding. Mulder had found   
out that while Kwan did care for Scully, he knew he didn't have a   
snowball's chance in hell with her. When Mulder had asked why,   
the assassin had looked at him like he'd missed seeing an   
elephant walk into the room.

'She's in love with you. You know that, don't you?' Kwan had   
said.

Looking back now, Mulder didn't remember choking on the beer,   
just having Kwan slap him on the back as he started to find the   
air that he usually breathed without problem had disappeared.   
When he'd gotten his breath back and turned to Kwan, he saw   
the surprise and thoughts of recrimination for how stupid he was   
clearly on the man's face.

It reminded him of his conversation with Skinner, which had   
started this fact-finding mission about Scully's affections in the   
first place.

The two of them had been sitting alone waiting for the plane for   
San Francisco to be announced while Scully had searched for a   
pay phone to call her mom. He'd sat there and in no uncertain   
terms been given the obvious approval of their boss to get 'jiggy'   
with his partner.

Actually, the incident had been more like 'What do you mean you   
and she aren't. . .' after Skinner had explained what she'd done   
to get him back, as well as the emotions that he'd witnessed first   
hand at each failure to rescue him, and their final success. He'd   
finally just asked outright what was going on between his agents,   
and Mulder's answer had caused his eyebrows to shoot up, and   
a look of indescribable shock to appear on Skinner's face.

After that, he'd all but been told he was an idiot, and that if he   
cared for Dana at all like Skinner was certain she cared for him, if   
he didn't do something about it, he'd make sure that Mulder   
would be working shit cases for the next twenty years.

He'd almost said something to her on the plane, and then when   
he'd come over the night after they'd returned, he had found   
Kwan already there, sitting on her couch. . . So he'd hesitated,   
unsure of how his partner *really* felt about him. Except Kwan   
had finally put him straight about where Dana Scully's heart lay -   
directly with him.

Skinner was back to being their boss, sending them on   
assignment and chewing out their asses while Kwan had taken   
the red eye out that morning to see some of his family in   
Chicago. Finally though, they were alone again, partners again.   
Yet there was potential for so much more. . .

He'd thought about it almost every minute since Kwan and   
Skinner had confirmed his suspicions. Of course, the truth was   
that he'd been pondering their relationship for longer than that.   
Mulder had sworn to himself while he'd been imprisoned that if   
ever the day came that he knew Scully could be in love with him,   
he'd make his move. Because the truth was that they'd both   
been used against each other so many times without their ever   
being 'intimately' involved made the fear of reprisal based on   
such a change to their relationship just crumble under the weight   
of the facts.

They'd forced themselves to repress what they both wanted for   
the last five years out of some misguided fear of reprisal, and   
he'd decided he deserved, no, *they* deserved the benefits of a   
more intimate relationship if they were going to suffer the   
disadvantages of one. They loved each other for God's sake!

Yet he hadn't heard Scully say the words. And he wanted,   
*needed* to hear them. Except right now, they were in the office,   
and he had to be business-like, be her partner. And he still   
needed to help Scully resolve all the aspects of herself that she   
was struggling with before they could take their next step. One   
that he so desperately wanted to take.

Nothing like taking on a simple problem or two, he thought   
almost bitterly.

He was just about to open his mouth and ask her how she was,   
hoping that he'd get an honest answer and not 'I'm fine', when   
the phone rang. Quickly he scooped it up and had it to his ear.

"Mulder."

The sound of his voice brought Scully up short, and her eyes left   
her desk to watch him as he 'yes' and 'no'd his way through the   
call. She couldn't help staring at him, her mind still having   
problems wrapping around the fact that just 2 weeks ago she'd   
been on the other side of the country looking for him. And that   
she'd found out just how far she was willing to go to get him   
back.

Hanging up, Mulder was surprised to find a pair of brilliant blue   
eyes staring at him, and he couldn't suppress the somewhat   
lopsided grin that lit his face.

"Skinner?" Scully asked, her voice a mixture of keen interest and   
dread.

"Yeah. He just wanted to make sure that now that we're back that   
we keep up with the accounting paperwork. He also mentioned   
something about possibly having something later in the week   
that we might need to look into, but no assignments just yet," he   
explained simply.

"Oh, ok."

She turned away from him again, and Mulder felt the strangest   
feeling of being cut off from his partner. Something he hadn't felt   
since that time in Comity. And while he could feel, almost see   
some of the emotions that she was feeling, the fact that she was   
so withdrawn at the moment really concerned him.

"Scully," he finally said, breaking through the silence that had   
descended into the room again. Her head slowly came up, and   
he swore he saw guilt and pain in her eyes. "What happened in   
San Francisco, what you did, what you *had* to do. . . You know   
that I don't think any less of you because of it, don't you?"

His words cut through her like a sword. Of course he'd know how   
she was feeling. He did have a damn degree in Psychology after   
all. And it wasn't like she'd been dealing well with the whole   
thing. Actually, she was more surprised that it had taken him this   
long to discuss it this directly with her.

Especially since, besides how much she wanted Mulder, it was   
all she could think about.

In the last two weeks, it was almost all she had been able to   
think about. What she'd done, what she'd become. How she'd   
been able to associate so easily, on such a base level with these   
people: Kwan the assassin and the Consortium; the mobsters   
Carmine and Anthony; even the military commando mentality of   
Skinner and Reggie.

She'd delved deeply into her own psyche after rescuing Mulder,   
as she'd found herself struggling to come to terms with who she   
was now, how much she had allowed herself to change in her   
search for Mulder, and whether or not she'd ever be able to go   
back to the way she was before. She'd been trying, and even   
though she'd succeeded to some degree, the knowledge that all   
those emotions, those impulses were just under the surface,   
ready to come out at a moments notice terrified her.

And at the root of all her fears about what she'd done, had   
become in her pursuit of Mulder, she'd been worried about how   
he felt about it, how it would *change* them.

"I. . . Mulder, you have to understand something," she said, her   
voice hesitant as she pressed her hands onto her thighs to keep   
them from trembling, her gaze wavering and then dropping. "I   
found a part of me that's capable of being as cold blooded and   
calculating as the men who took you are. It's not something that's   
easy to live with, and I've been trying to handle it on a day to day   
basis since we got back. But to know what you're capable of, not   
just from thinking that you could be if pressed, but to truly know   
it. . . part of me wishes that I didn't."

Mulder let the words just hang there for a minute. They'd skirted   
around the issue for weeks now, and while his Psychology   
education had trained him to expect her to feel something like   
this, to actually hear the words from Dana Scully: his partner, his   
*strength*, the woman he. . . well, it shook him more than he'd   
imagined it would. In a heartbeat he had gotten up from his chair   
and moved to her side. Turning her in her seat, he tenderly lifted   
her face to his, catching her eyes and let her read them.

"I wish I could give you back what you've lost too Scully: the   
innocence to not know what you're capable of; the knowledge   
that this is a part of you, no matter what you do," he said softly,   
his eyes speaking volumes in unspoken emotion. "But I also   
understand what led you to delve into the part of you that you   
would have rather kept locked away. . . me."

At his words, she wanted to stop him, try and explain herself   
better. But the look in his eyes told her that he wasn't finished.

"You never gave up on me Scully. And I'll always be grateful for   
that. I want you to know that I'd never judge you for what you've   
done. All I want to do is just be here for you, be with you while   
you deal with this. Whatever the price is that I have to pay to help   
you accept all the parts of yourself, I'll pay it. Just please,   
*please* don't shut me out," he finally said, his hands now   
clutching hers as he waited breathlessly for a word, a sign that   
she understood what he was saying. How he felt.

Scully let out a tremulous sigh, and she felt tears start to well up   
in her eyes. The final fear she'd had was gone and it was like a   
weight had lifted from her shoulders. He didn't hate, didn't fear   
what she'd had to do to save him. Instead he was willing to stand   
by her as she sorted out all those issues of her psyche.

"I've never wanted to shut you out Mulder. I was just. . . afraid   
that you wouldn't understand," she started.

"But I do Scully. And I can't say that it going to be easy, but I've   
always known you had it in you," he said, lightening the mood,   
then he put his hand over his shoulder where he proudly carried   
a bullet scar. "Hell, you've kicked my ass enough times to know."

She couldn't help but smile at that, and nodded her head. He   
smiled back, and she knew everything was going to be ok.

\- X -

Epilogue  
Scully's apartment  
3170 W. 53 Rd.  
Annapolis, VA

 

Scully shrugged her shoulders as she felt Mulder's hands come   
down to rest on them. Even through the warm cloth of her flannel   
shirt she could feel the heat of his hands as if they burned. It was   
like that nowadays, since San Francisco and the abduction. His   
touch was like fire as she truly understood what losing Mulder   
would have done to her. And what she would have lost if that had   
happened.

He'd been over most nights since they'd returned, but tonight   
was different. A couple of hours ago, after their talk in the office,   
he'd shown up at her apartment with Chinese take out and beer.   
They'd sat and eaten and talked. In the past, that had always a   
good sign. It was something that lent itself to the pattern of their   
partnership and friendship. It was business as usual.

Except tonight it had just made her feel anxious and   
uncomfortable. She had found herself distracted and giving him   
one word answers to his questions as they talked. Finally she'd   
moved from the couch and sat down in the wing back   
upholstered chair she'd always considered her father's as Mulder   
had taken the leftovers into the kitchen.

That's where he'd found her now, as he waited to see if his touch   
would roust her from her thoughts. Little did he know he was   
doing more than just that.

She turned under his grasp and looked up at him. He released   
her shoulders and walked around the chair to sit on the coffee   
table before her. She could see the beginnings of something   
dangerous brewing behind his eyes, and sucked in a deep   
breath. It wasn't bad enough that her nerves had been fried after   
she'd admitted just how deep her feelings for Mulder ran during   
her quest to get him back. But since he'd been liberated, he   
always seemed to be near her. In her space and on her mind. It   
was driving her crazy.

"I understand that Kwan left for Chicago this morning," Mulder   
began, trying to ease into the discussion that he had avoided in   
the office. It required a lot more privacy than their basement   
afforded. And the final results, well, he was thinking that they   
might be less than 'friendly'.

"The job he'd been brought here to do seems to have been   
called off," she replied dryly. The man had been hired to kill her,   
what more could she say about that. Except that he'd turned   
against his orders and ended up helping her. She'd come to   
depend on him while she'd been searching for Mulder. And once   
she'd accomplished that goal, Kwan had decided to take his   
leave, since his employer had 'vanished'. "Some of his family is   
there. They immigrated some years back and there was nothing   
keeping him D.C. any longer. He didn't know anyone here, didn't   
have anyone. . . "

"He had you," he said softly.

Scully looked up into Mulder's usually hazel eyes and found   
them darker than she could remember them ever being. She   
found herself swimming in them, drowning in the complex   
emotions that she found there. And when she found the one   
emotion that she'd longed to see, she found her courage to leap   
into the fire.

There was a long pause as they looked at each other, and   
Mulder was starting to worry that he'd misjudged her reactions.   
That Skinner, Kwan and he were all wrong in what they'd been   
sure they'd seen. Except he was *sure* he saw it now. . .

"No. *You* have me," she explained quietly, the true weight of   
what she meant evident in each syllable that had passed her lips.   
"That is, if you want me. . . "

Mulder was sure his heart had stopped as he finally   
comprehended what she'd just said, just admitted to him. He   
looked at her as if she was insane. Did he want her? Hell yes!   
He'd wanted to hear her say that for five years, and he couldn't   
believe she would even doubt that he could need her, want her,   
love her like he did. He'd spent the days locked in those different   
prisons realizing just how much he cared for her. And now that   
he knew that she felt the same as he did, he wasn't backing   
away.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you how much I want you   
Scully," he replied breathlessly.

Her tongue flicked out of her mouth and wetted her lips, which   
seemed to have gone dry in the seconds that had passed   
between being friends with the man she loved and being told he   
wanted her as much as she wanted him. She watched his eyes   
follow her tongue, and then he gravitated towards the chair.

Without thinking, her hands flew forward and stopped him, the   
palms resting against his chest. He looked at her, confused at   
her blocking him from touching her, when it had been just   
seconds before that she'd said she wanted him.

"I just want you to be sure Mulder," she asked softly, her fingers   
almost burrowing into his soft gray t-shirt. "I spent all that time   
looking for you, and while I was doing that, I came to the   
realization that I needed you more than I knew. That I was in love   
with you."

Mulder was sure he had stopped breathing, and his heart was   
thudding in his chest. She'd finally said the words he'd needed to   
hear, told him that she *loved* him, and now he knew that   
nothing could keep them apart any longer.

Kneeling at her feet, his hands came up and closed over where   
hers still pressed against his chest. The results were electric, as   
he felt a jolt like an electrical shock starting from where their   
hands met. It coursed along his nerve endings and sent his heart   
rate climbing and his blood pooling south. On top of that, he saw   
her eyes widen a bit and knew that she'd felt it too. He couldn't   
help but grin like an idiot.

"I'm sure Scully. I'm sure that I've never needed or trusted   
anyone more than I do you," he started, pulling her hands away   
from his chest so he could lean in closer. "And I'm sure that I've   
never loved anyone like I love you."

His face was inches from hers by the time he stopped speaking,   
and he gazed in her eyes one last time for permission. The spark   
of lust he saw there was invitation enough, and he leaned in the   
final few inches to press his lips warmly to hers. Her lips were   
soft and hot, and he found himself intoxicated by just this simple   
kiss.

Then her mouth opened under his and Scully's tongue ran   
across his lips and he was gone.

Mulder's hands flew to her hair, weaving themselves in her silken   
tresses as he pulled her closer to him, ravishing her mouth with   
his. In turn, Scully tightened her grip on his shirt, her fingers   
kneading both the cloth and his chest as she struggled with the   
onslaught of his lips on hers, feeding back to him the same   
passion he was showing her.

Prying his lips from hers, Mulder leaned back and smiled at her.   
At the same time, he let his hands ease from their grip in her hair   
to brush over her ears, down her neck and to her shoulders.   
Scully shivered at his touch and he grinned wider. Moving back   
in, he drank of her lips only for a second before he let his mouth   
start wandering. He kissed at her forehead, her cheeks and her   
nose, then gravitated to her left ear. All the while, his hands   
stroked up and down her flannel covered arms.

"Tell me Scully," he whispered in her ear, making her shudder. "I need you to tell me too."

"Tell you what? I've said a lot of things tonight," she countered huskily, her head lolling back as his mouth moved down her neck slightly before moving back up to her ear.

"Tell me that you want me. That you trust me."

Once the words were out, he headed back to his task, his lips kissing and sucking at her neck, moving towards the neckline of her shirt.

"Of course I want you Mulder. I think I've always wanted you. And I trust you... you're the only one I trust," she said in a simple yet serious manner as she felt his lips curl against her skin.

"Oooh Scully, I just got really turned on."

He looked up at her and saw her arch her eyebrow. She was   
smiling though. One of the rare Scully smiles that turned his   
insides to butter. How the hell had he resisted doing this with her   
all this time? Fought the feelings that they had when this was the   
benefit of them? The thoughts running through his head seemed   
to short circuit what he'd been doing, and he was just sitting   
there, watching her.

Mulder suddenly felt Scully's hands at his waist. Then they   
slipped lower and she stroked him through his jeans. His eyes   
slipped shut and he couldn't breathe. Dear God, he was sure that   
he was dead. He must have died in the firefight in San Francisco   
because there was no way in hell that this could be real. Except   
that it felt too good for him to be dead.

"Do you want to take this somewhere more comfortable?" Scully   
said in a smoky whisper that Mulder was sure he'd only heard in   
his fantasies.

Looking at her, seeing her disheveled hair, the passionate look to   
her eyes and her full, well kissed lips, he knew he'd have to take   
it to the bedroom sooner or later, or they'd end up on the floor.   
But for the moment, he still liked where they were.

"Not quite yet," he replied, his lips finding hers and locking to   
them as his hands started at the buttons on her shirt.

Even with shaking hands, he got the small discs undone in   
record time. Never let it be said that being focused and   
obsessive didn't have its benefits, he thought wickedly to himself   
as he peeled the shirt off her shoulders and pooled it around her   
waist. Scully had to let up on rubbing his erection through his   
jeans when he'd shoved her shirt down her arms, effectively   
pinning her hands nearly to her sides. Now she fought not to   
squirm under his touch and gaze as he reached for her bra.

It wasn't more than a heartbeat before Mulder had the clasp of   
her bra in hand, and looked up to her eyes for any signs of   
dissent. When he saw none, he had it apart and her breasts in   
plain and very appreciative view. She watched as his tongue   
swiped along his lips slowly, and she wondered if it was a   
conscious act or not.

Then that tongue found its way to the ivory skin between her   
breasts and licked from below the swell of her breasts to her   
throat, and then kissed his way back down, swerving to her left   
breast before he returned to where he's started. She'd closed her   
eyes, the strength of the emotions rolling through her startling   
her and making it near impossible to watch without moaning.   
That was until his lips wrapped around her pink nipple and he   
pulled ever so slightly, his tongue just barely brushing it before   
she felt a groan of pleasure slip from her mouth.

Encouraged even more than before, he lapped at her like a cat,   
his lips occasionally closing tightly on the bud and sucking. Each   
variation produced a different pitch in her moans or groans as he   
felt her arch herself further into him. His right hand grasped her   
right breast and played with the nipple there, alternating pinching   
and rolling it to flicking and rubbing the hard point of flesh. His   
left hand had wrapped around her waist and held her to him as   
he continued to explore her.

"Oh God that's good Mulder," she hissed as his teeth barely   
grated against her skin. He glanced up at her and found himself   
respond with another twinge to his groin as he saw her lolled   
back, her cheeks flushed and her eyelids half closed. She was   
the sexiest thing he'd seen in his life.

He'd wanted to take this slow, draw out the experience, but he   
didn't know if he had it in him. Stubbornly, he shoved aside his   
discomfort and urgency and instead refocused on Scully. The   
hand at her waist found the waistband of her leggings and he   
curled his fingers inside. With a tug, he got them and her panties   
started down her hip, but realized he needed both hands and her   
help to get them off. His mouth and his other hand left her breast   
as he started to concentrate on the problem at hand.

Once she'd felt his hands pull at her waist, Scully had shuddered   
and forced her eyes open to watch Mulder struggle with her   
clothes. With a little grin, she slid her hands beside his and   
helped him get the garments off her hips. As soon as he had   
them to her thighs, he shoved them down with ease. Then before   
she knew what had hit her, he'd put his hands around the backs   
of her knees and pulled her forward on the chair, spreading her   
legs open and her ass halfway off the cushion.

If she hadn't been wet before now, she was certainly getting   
hotter and damper by the second as Scully watched him stare at   
her lower body, now exposed to his view. The smile that graced   
his face was feral, lustful in every way. She felt her excitement   
ratchet up another notch, her insides humming in anticipation of   
his next move.

When it came, it was like lines of fire.

Mulder leaned in and let his long fingers glide past her auburn   
down and over her wet folds, lightly but with enough pressure to   
make sure they both felt every stroke. He went from her clit to   
the bottom of her slick opening and back up again in a leisurely   
fashion as he breathed in her scent, made stronger by his touch.   
There was no reason to rush, he reminded himself over and over   
again. They had eternity, didn't they?

With each stroke, Scully felt the fire coiling low in her belly,   
turning her mind to mush and her inner walls to quivering jelly.   
She was quietly calling out to God, Mulder and all variety of   
deities as he continued his assault. The small part of her brain   
that was still trying to function rationally realized that she was   
almost over the edge, and he had yet to put his lips or tongue to   
her.

Or, as she felt the tips of his fingers push minutely past her outer   
lips, used his finger where she most wanted them - inside her.   
She moaned in pleasure and frustration as he did it over and   
over again, increasing her need with each stroke. Her hands   
clutched at the arms of the chair until she couldn't stand it any   
more.

"Mulder, please," she pleaded beseechingly, her voice raspy in   
its need.

Confused, Mulder stopped and looked at her face. His eyes were   
transfixed by the vision of lust before him. She was biting on her   
lip and had her eyes closed tightly. Her nails were pressed   
deeply into the well upholstered arms of the chair.

Shit, he thought, was he doing something wrong?

"What Scully? Please what?" he asked, concern starting to creep   
into his expression as well as his voice.

The tone of his question popped her eyes open, and she saw the   
fear in his gaze. Inwardly she laughed, he thought he was doing   
something wrong when the truth was he was simply torturing her   
to death with the pleasure of it. But she needed more, and she   
had to tell him so.

"Please *more*," she said throatily, the words dripping from her   
mouth like honey. "Please don't stop. God, it feels so good,   
please don't stop there. . . "

The anxiety was gone from his face in a heartbeat and he   
grinned at her. His fingers stroked along her again, faster this   
time and rubbing slightly at her clit before they started back   
down. He felt her tense and her hips slide forwards a fraction as   
his fingers brushed below the surface of her lower lips. Without   
needing any further instructions, he let his fingers slide to the end   
of her opening, and on the stroke back up, he slid his first two   
fingers deeply inside of her.

Scully cried out. If it had been louder, it would have been a   
scream, but instead it sounded high pitched and more like a wail.   
As he slid his fingers in and out of her hot passage, he felt her   
insides shake around him. It wouldn't take long, and he knew that   
if he was going to take full advantage of his kneeling position   
before her, he had to do it now.

He lowered his head and dropped his mouth to her clit as he   
furiously thrust his fingers in and out of her body. It took only a   
few moments before he felt her tighten around him and quake as   
her orgasm hit.

"Ohhh God!" she yelled, her head thrown back as the waves of   
release washed through her body, shaking her with the force of   
her climax.

Mulder rode it out with her, his tongue lapping at her juices as his   
fingers moved slowly inside her until she finally came down.   
before long she could open her eyes and look at him. It took a   
little longer for her voice to return.

"Wow," she murmured, her hand unclenching from the chair arm   
and burrowing into Mulder's hair.

"Double wow," he replied, a look of satisfaction plastered on his   
face. "That was amazing."

Scully tried not to blush, but found it impossible. Her emotions   
were too far out of her control for that. Gazing lovingly at the man   
kneeling before her, she noted both the painful looking bulge   
under his jeans, and the fact that he was still wearing clothes.

That would not do at all, she jokingly thought to herself.

Using her grip on his head, Scully pulled Mulder up until his face   
was in front of hers. She paused only for a second before she   
savaged his lips with hers, tasting him and herself on his lips and   
tongue. While her mouth toyed with his, her hands moved to pull   
at his clothes, tugging at the hem of his shirt and struggling with   
the button of his jeans.

Forcing himself not to chuckle, Mulder pulled himself back to   
watch a very aroused Dana Scully frantically try to get him   
undressed with little success.

"You know Scully, you could just ask," he teased as he gently   
moved her hands from him, taking over for her.

His shirt was gone in a second, and he popped the button and   
unzipped his pants in no time flat. It wasn't until he got to his   
tennis shoes that he realized he had a problem. Scully watched   
with a mixture of lust and humor as she shrugged her shirt and   
bra completely off. When he nearly fell on his ass, trying to pull   
off his shoes, she couldn't help giggling. Quickly she threw her   
hand over her mouth, but it was too late.

"This is *not* funny," he growled lightly as he finally pulled the   
shoe and sock off, their momentum throwing them across the   
living room.

"If you were sitting where I am, you would think it was funny too   
Mulder," she retorted, leaning forward in the chair to lick at his   
now bare chest.

He started at the touch and fell backward to land ass first on the   
coffee table.

"Ow!" he yelled, his hand flying to his abused backside.

"Anything injured?" she asked quickly, jumping up from the chair   
to his side.

"My pride is about it," he replied, and with that she reached over   
and pulled his other shoe and sock off. His jeans followed.

She crouched there, looking at his erection straining towards her,   
held back only by the white cotton boxers. Her eyes came back   
to his, and all the humor and hurting were gone. Replaced with   
the love and lust she was becoming used to seeing there.

Standing quickly, she held out her hands to help him up. He took   
them readily and stood in front of her. Gravitating closer, they   
pressed against one another, almost totally flesh against flesh.

"You ready to go someplace more comfortable?" she asked   
softly, her mouth curling into a soft grin.

"Oh yeah," he replied with a lustful grin and looped his arms   
around her waist. She yelped, and he lifted her from the floor,   
hauling her with him as he moved quickly to her bedroom.

Inside, he laid her on the bed, reluctantly letting her go, his   
hands dragging along her soft skin as he released her. Scully   
looked up at him inquisitively from her reclining position on the   
bed as she tried to gauge his next move. Before he did anything   
else, he reached down and pulled at the bedcovers and Scully   
moved to accommodate him. Now, with nothing but the sheet   
below her, she expected him to come to her.

Instead he just stood there, his cock straining against his boxers   
and a look of utter astonishment on his face. It was as if he was   
finally coming to realize that this was really happening. That they   
were doing this for real.

Scully decided that the only thing that was going to haul Mulder   
out of his analysis was for her to make the next more. Sitting up,   
she reached forward and insinuated her fingers between the   
elastic of Mulder's waistband and his skin. She felt his breath   
catch as her fingers slid down inside the cloth, then he growled   
when she tugged at them forcefully, pulling him to her as his   
knees butted against the side of the bed.

Her other hand came up to join the first, and she drew down his   
boxers in one attempt. Using his feet, he pushed them past his   
calves and onto her bedroom floor. All the while, they watched   
one another, seeing the desires and emotions playing across   
their features. Deliberately she moved her hands back to his   
waist, pulling his pelvis closer to her, and Mulder stared as she   
licked her lips as she came closer to his engorged cock.

As soon as he saw her tongue dart forward, he stepped back,   
nearly unseating her from the bed. Confused, she looked up at   
him, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong. Mulder's hands   
were in her hair in a second and he leaned down to kiss her   
passionately, pushing them both onto the bed, his body   
sprawling on top of hers.

"Not this time love," he said affectionately as he pulled himself   
from her lips. "I want to come with you. If you'd even touched me,   
I don't think I could have held out long enough for this. . . "

At his words, he positioned himself at her vaginal opening and   
slid inside in one long, slow thrust.

"Oohh God!" Scully moaned as he filled her up beyond her   
wildest imaginings. It was the most incredible sensation.

"Mmm, oh Scully, that feels *so* good. *You* feel so good," he   
panted, feeling his length pulse within the heated sheath of her   
body.

Beneath him, Scully arched up into him, her hands moving along   
his back and to his shoulders. Her body was getting restless as   
he held himself still, embedded deep inside her core. She was on   
the edge already, the sensation of him just being inside her was   
almost enough to make her come. But she needed him to   
*move*.

"So do you Mulder," Scully murmured, her voice passion-filled   
but with a raw edge that surprised him. "But if you don't move   
*soon*, I'm going to have to hurt you."

A lopsided grin spread across his face while his emotions warred   
between humor and lust. His hands slid from her head, one going   
to brace himself over her as the other wrapped around her waist   
as he shifted them further onto the bed, the movement rocking   
him slightly back, then farther insider of her. Scully moaned at   
the shift in their position, and helped him, letting the heels of her   
feet dig into the mattress and her legs push while he moved   
forward. When he settled, she wrapped them around his thighs,   
holding him tightly to her.

"Well?" she started, then gasped as he withdrew suddenly and   
thrust back into her.

His reply was non-verbal as he released her waist and his hand   
flew back to her hair as he gradually started to drive himself in   
and out of her, his mouth closing onto hers as he set up a tempo   
which she quickly countered.

Picking up the pace, Mulder had her writhing under him, words of   
love and cries of pleasure reaching his ears as he strove to bring   
them both to completion. He pounded into her while his mouth   
kissed and sucked at her neck and collarbone, her nails running   
up and down his back.

Mulder knew the pressure within them both was almost ready to   
explode, his balls were on fire and his cock seemed to throb   
almost constantly. He was just about to reach between them   
when he felt her inner walls pulse, and then strongly contract as   
Scully's orgasm hit her suddenly, accompanied by a shrill cry   
that he was sure was his name.

Holding nothing back, Mulder slammed forcefully once, then   
again as he felt his balls clench and his semen shoot out his   
body and into hers as he let loose with a hoarse yell. Wracked   
with the indescribable pleasure of his release, his eyes fell shut   
as he slumped forward, his lower arms holding him above Scully   
as he laid there, gasping for breath.

He felt her hands touch his face, and he opened his eyes to see   
the shinning blue he'd become so dependent on. Even if he   
hadn't seen the smile on her face and the glow that radiated from   
her body, he could have told how much she loved him from just   
the look in her eyes. And now that he'd seen it, he never wanted   
to live without it.

Scully grunted in discomfort as Mulder unconsciously let his   
weight fall on her, and he quickly lifted himself up, dislodging his   
deflating cock from her body as he did so. They both winced at   
the loss, but he quickly rolled to his side, pulling her beside him.   
He watched her as her eyes blinked slowly, tiredly. The toll of   
their lovemaking, he smirked. He'd tired her out.

Sitting up, he searched blindly at the bottom of the bed for the   
covers and finally caught hold of them. Pulling them up over   
them, he settled himself on his side, gazing lovingly at the   
woman tucked against him.

Scully reached over and ran her hand down his bare chest, then   
up to his neck and behind his head. With the lightest pressure,   
she pulled his face to hers and kissed him tenderly on the lips   
and then let him ease from her grasp as her hand found a resting   
place over his heart.

"I love you Mulder," she said with quiet conviction, her eyes   
heavy and glassy with unshed tears of joy.

He smiled at her, and she reflected it back at him.

"I love you too Scully," he whispered in her ear, brushing at the   
wisps of auburn that spread across her face as she attempted to   
stifle a yawn. "Get some rest Scully. I'll be here when you wake   
up. I'm not going anywhere anytime in the foreseeable future.   
Except where you are."

Scully smiled and nodded, then curled up against him, exhausted   
and happy. She had everything she wanted. After everything   
she'd been through to get it, she had it. As she felt him stoke her   
hair, she let her eyes slip shut and sleep claim her.

He watched her intently, his heart full and his emotions   
overflowing. She just kept amazing him. Every time he was sure   
he knew all there was to Dana Scully, she surprised him again.   
When he'd been held prisoner, he'd fantasized about this   
moment, but the reality blew the fantasy away. His warrior-like   
defender had come to his rescue, and not only had given him his   
freedom, but her heart as well. And with that, she'd given him a   
future - *their* future.

Mulder smiled warmly, then looked away from the fiery red-head   
pillowed against him in the bed and out the window. It was dark   
outside, pitch black almost. Yet he remembered a quote by   
someone that said that it was always darkest before the dawn.   
But as he turned his gaze back to where Scully lay, he knew that   
no matter what happened to them now, the darkness was over.

Dawn had finally arrived.

-End-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I have been obsessed with this project on   
> and off for the last 4 years now. It was one of the few projects   
> that I swore to myself that I would finish. No matter what, and I'm   
> glad to say that it's finally done.
> 
> At this point, I need to acknowledge the main contributor,   
> motivator and support - my husband Gil. When this story idea   
> started, it was during a time when I was immersed in several   
> things: running an X-Files Mailing List (XFCreative), writing   
> fanfic, planning a wedding and living the day to day life of   
> someone in a relationship. And while I ended up putting the   
> writing and administration duties on hold, I always knew that if I   
> ever wanted to pick up either of them again, I'd always have his   
> support. I turned to him for technical advice on weaponry and   
> foreign history, and he helped write several story sections as well   
> as helped me develop the plot line. So, for everything, I thank   
> him from the bottom of my heart (which is his anyhow).
> 
> Also my thanks to the beta readers for looking this over - you   
> know who you are.
> 
> So to wrap up, I simply say - I hope you enjoyed this, and if you   
> liked it, please drop me a line at jtrevizo@mindspring.com and   
> let me know.
> 
> This story and others can be found at Writing Machine Central:   
> http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Orion/1341/stories.html
> 
> Thanks!


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